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THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL 





I 




“AND THEN THE BOY 


WAITED FOR THE NEXT 


MOVE.” 


The Minute Boys of 
Bunker Hill 


BY 

EDWARD STRATEMEYER 

n 

AUTHOR OF 

■‘THE MINUTE BOYS OF LEXINGTON,” “UNDER DEWEY 
AT MANILA,” “ A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA,” 

“ FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS, ’L “ RICHARD 
dare’s venture,” “OLIVER BRIGHT’S 
SEARCH,” “ BOUND TO BE AN 
ELECTRICIAN,” ETC. 


Cllustratrt bg 
J. W. KENNEDY 



BOSTON 

DANA ESTES & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


1 





Copyright^ j8gg 
By Dana Estes & Company 

TWOCOf*»r ., *^>tC€IV||D, 



rir?£;T CCrY, 

>!> 0^ O 
\ 


Colonial Press; 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
Boston, Mass., U.S. A. 


e/A 


CONTENTS. \ 

X '■ 

CHAPTER X XX' PAGE 

I. Roger Determine§S.to* Leave Home ii 

II. A Precious Keg of PGivvder . . 20 

III. Three Strange Men .... 29 

IV. .4>The Disappearance of the Enemy . 39 

V. The Confiscation of the Military 

Stores 50 

"'■'X 

VI. How THE. Siege of Boston Was Be- 

. 

GUN'^ 60 

VII. The Expedition to Hog and Nod- 
dle’s Islands .... 67 

’-K 

VIII. The Encounter at the Spring . 79 

IX. The Man Behind the Driftwood . 91 

X. A Letter of Importance . . .101 

XI. The Visitor at the Morse Home- 
stead Ill 

XII. Hen Peabody Investigates . .121 

XIII. The Two Spies and Their Work . 133 

XIV. Off for the Front . . . .145 

XV. Working on Breed’s Hill Breast- 


works 


7 


155 


8 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVI. The Bombardment from the War- 
ships 165 

XVII. The Opening of the Battle of 

Bunker Hill . . . .176 

XVIII. The Storming of the Redoubt . 186 

XIX. Into Boston as a Prisoner . . 200 

XX. Sad News at Home .... 209 

XXI. Uriah Bedwell’s Threat . . .219 

XXII. The Vault in the Old Burying- 

GROUND 231 

XXIII. At the Sign of the Shaving-mug . 239 

XXIV. The Tory’s Little Plot . . . 248 

XXV. A Prisoner Once More . . . 256 

XXVI. The Tory and His Terms . . . 263 

XXVII. In the Deserted Mansion . . 272 

XXVIII. Roger Meets Mrs. Alan Brascoe . 279 

XXIX. Operations During the Siege . . 287 

XXX. The Evacuation of Boston . . 296 

XXXI. Home Once More. — Conclusion . 304 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

“And then the boy waited for the next move” 

Frontispiece 

“ ‘ Come on, boys ; now is our chance ! ’ ” . . 87 

“‘Hen Peabody!’ gasped old Kirk” . . .127 

“ ‘ The inhuman brutes I ’ thought Roger as he 

SURVEYED THE SCENE” I4I 

“ Colonel Prescott mounted to the top of the 

EARTHWORKS, SWORD IN HAND” . . . 169 

“ Roger was horrified to see Hen pitch for- 
ward ON HIS face” 195 

“ The walk again took Roger past the Old 

South Meeting-house 223 

Uriah Bedwell hurled himself upon the bound 

AND defenceless LAD ” 267 


4 


THE 


MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL 


CHAPTER I. 

ROGER DETERMINES TO LEAVE HOME. 

“ I KNOW it is taking a big risk, mother. But 
Mr. Winthrop says he wants his cattle, and I don’t 
blame him. In these days twelve good cows are 
worth some money.” 

“ I agree with you, Roger ; but an expedition 
to Hog and Noddle’s Islands may prove very dis- 
astrous. Since our awful fight here in Lexington, 
and at Concord, and down in Charlestown, the 
British have been in an ugly mood, and if they 
discover what is going on they will send a guard 
over to the islands to kill every minute man, or 
take him a prisoner.” 

“ Mr. Winthrop and the others are going to try 
to get to the islands and back before the British 
soldiers realise what is going on.” 


12 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

“ How many head of cattle are there on the 
two islands ? ” 

“ About five hundred, so Dick said, besides some 
horses and a good lot of sheep. Now that we 
have the British penned in Boston, it would be a 
shame to let them grow fat on the live stock belong- 
ing to the colonists. I’d fight them again, before 
I’d give them a single head,” and Roger Morse’s 
manly face showed that he meant what he 
said. 

“ Oh, my son, don’t talk about fighting again ! ” 
cried Mrs. Morse, in quick alarm. “Why, that 
wound in your head isn’t healed up yet, and poor 
Hen is still limping around from the dreadful treat- 
ment he received at the hands of those redcoats. 
Wait, at least, until you are better.” 

“I’m well enough to take my place among the 
minute boys. Don’t you think so, Dorothy } ” 
and Roger appealed to his sister, who had just 
entered the sitting-room of the Morse homestead 
with a bowl of gruel for the invalid mother. 

“That is for you to say, Roger,” was the an- 
swer of the girl, who, since the death of her father, 
had had the care of the household on her shoulders. 
“ But if you go away, and Hen goes, I really don’t 
know what will become of the farm.” 

“ And what will become of the farm if the 
British break out of Boston, come here again, and 
start another fight ? You may be certain, if they 


ROGER DETERMINES TO LEAVE HOME. 1 3 

get the chance, they’ll burn down every building 
in sight.” 

“ God forbid that such a thing should happen, 
my son ! ” murmured Mrs. Morse. For a moment 
she sipped her gruel in silence. “ Then you really 
think of going ? ” 

Unless you say I must stay at home, I intend 
to leave on Friday. The cattle-owners are going 
over to the islands on Saturday, and I would like 
to be with Mr. Winthrop and Dick.” 

“ What about Hen ? Are you going to take 
him with you ? ” 

“No, I think he ought to stay home a few days 
or a week longer. The bruise on his knee isn’t 
quite healed up yet.” 

“ I do not see how I am to spare both of you 
again,” sighed Mrs. Morse. “ But duty is duty, I 
know, and our colonies need every man they can 
get, in order to vindicate our rights. Yet the 
boys — ” 

“ I’ve heard Israel Putnam’s youngest son is in 
the Connecticut volunteers. He isn’t sixteen yet. 
If Old Put allows his son to go to the front, why — ” 

“ Then Roger shall go,” finished Dorothy Morse, 
promptly, as she threw her arm over her only 
brother’s shoulder. “ But, oh, Roger, do take care 
of yourself ! Remember those redcoats can fire 
quite as true as our minute men, and their bullets 
are just as deadly.” 


14 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

You can rest assured that I’ll be careful,” 
laughed the youth, much relieved to think that 
there had not been a “ scene ” over his intended 
departure. “ But there is one thing that is worry- 
ing me. All told, I haven’t over a pint of powder 
around the place.” 

Cannot you get more from some of our sol- 
diers .? ” 

“ Get more ? Why, half a dozen of them have 
begged me for what -I have. They say those 
around the Neck haven’t over ten rounds of am- 
munition apiece. If General Gage knew that, 
how he would come out to lay them low ! But he 
doesn’t know it, and our officers are taking great 
precautions so that he sha’n’t find out.” 

“You’ll have to leave some powder for Hen,” 
put in Dorothy. “ He wouldn’t like it if he was 
left without any.” 

“ I intend to leave him half. But I’ve got 
another scheme in my head,” went on Roger, as 
he began to pace the floor. “ You remember that 
old stone house in the woods, up near Grayley’s, — 
the house in which that Sergeant Kegan and his 
men made me a prisoner ? Well, I imagine those 
fellows left some powder there, — in fact, I am half 
certain of it. I’m going over there this afternoon to 
have a look, and Paul Darly is going over with me.” 

“ What makes you imagine that they left powder 
there } ” questioned Dorothy, with interest. 


ROGER DETERMINES TO LEAVE HOME. 1 5 

^*One of the soldiers — a fellow named Win- 
dotte — carried a little keg slung in a strap. When 
they took me into the building, I noticed that he 
placed the keg out of sight, on the top shelf of the 
cupboard. I believe he intended to come back for 
it later on, but since that time I’ve got to thinking 
it over, and I don’t believe he ever had the chance 
to go back, for he was badly wounded down by 
Buckman’s tavern. If the keg had powder in it, 
and it is still there, it will be a big prize to uncover 
— just now,” concluded the boy. 

Roger Morse was a tall, well-built, manly youth 
of sixteen years, who lived with his mother and his 
only sister, Dorothy, on the outskirts of Lexington, 
on a homestead farm, facing the old Boston road. 
The farm was one of the most productive in the 
neighbourhood, and since the death of his father, 
•some years previous, Roger had taken entire 
charge of the outside work, assisted in these duties 
by Hen Peabody, a hired man of all work. 

Mrs. Morse was a lady of forty-five, who had 
been more or less of an invalid for years. She 
depended almost entirely upon Roger, Dorothy, 
who was two years older than her brother, and the 
ever-faithful Hen, who had long since been accepted 
as an additional member of the household. Hen 
was from the Green Mountain district, a patriot to 
the core, and a man who thought his young mas- 
ter *‘jest right, always.” 


1 6 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

In a previous work, entitled “The Minute Boys 
of Lexington,” the particulars are related of how, 
one morning in April, Roger , was stopped on the 
road by a British detachment of soldiers, made a 
prisoner, and taken to an old stone house, situated 
in a dense woods. From this place, the youth 
escaped, to learn that the troops at Boston were 
coming out to Concord and Lexington to confis- 
cate the military stores secreted at those places. 
The youth at once did his share to spread the 
alarm, and, after returning home, joined his own 
company of minute boys, which was attached, in a 
sort of fashion, to Captain Parker’s Minute Men 
of Lexington. What the brave minute boys did 
during the battles of Lexington and Concord, 
the readers of the previous volume already know. 
Suffice it to say here that Roger and his chums, 
Dick Winthrop, Paul Darly, Andy Cresson, Bei> 
Small, and a dozen others, fought as only those can 
fight whose whole souls are in their efforts. With 
all confidence, the British marched into Lexington 
and then Concord, only to be driven back along 
the road they had come, with the loss of many 
killed and many more wounded. 

The various encounters of that never-to-be-for- 
gotten day had left Roger with several wounds, 
none of which, however, were serious, and now, 
three weeks later, he was feeling nearly as well as 
ever, although he had taken the bandage from his 


ROGER DETERMINES TO LEAVE HOME. 1 / 

head but a few days previous. Hen had suffered 
fully as much, and limped, rather than walked, as 
he resumed his duties. 

Roger’s adventures had not been confined en- 
tirely to the field of battle. During the day an 
attempt had been made to burn down Mr. Wim 
throp’s house, and, coming on the scene at just the 
right time, Roger had succeeded in rescuing pretty 
Nellie Winthrop from the flames. For this, Dick’s 
sister was truly grateful, and said so, and her words 
caused Roger to blush deeply, for, although he had 
never breathed it to a soul, he thought Nellie just 
the dearest girl in the whole world. 

The first hunt for the British detachment, after 
Roger’s escape from the old stone house, had led 
the youth and his friends to the home of Uriah 
Bed well, a pronounced Tory. As soon as it was 
ascertained that Bedwell was harbouring the 
enemy, the man, who was known to be one of 
the meanest lawyers for miles around, was com- 
pelled to flee for his life, and his dwelling was 
burned to the ground, although with this destruc- 
tion Roger had nothing to do. Uriah Bedwell fled 
to Boston, vowing vengeance upon all of his for- 
mer neighbours, and especially upon Roger, whom 
he considered the prime cause of all his troubles. 
Of Uriah Bedwell we shall see and hear more 
later. 

At the burning of the Winthrop homestead, a 


1 8 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

box containing some jewelry had been stolen by 
Barnaby Marston, a sanctimonious old hypocrite, 
who had been dubbed Deacon by those who knew 
him. Deacon Marston had tried to escape with 
the box, but failed, and he joined Bedwell in the 
flight to Boston. But he, too, was bitter against 
Roger, and hoping for a time when he might, 
according to his own notion, square accounts with 
the sturdy lad. 

In a drawer of the old secretary that stood 
in the sitting-room of the Morse house, Roger 
had placed a packet which he considered both 
sacred and valuable. It had been given to him 
by a British officer, Lieut. Alan Brascoe, whom 
the lad had stumbled upon by the roadside, late 
in the day. The officer, lying at the point of 
death from a bullet-wound in his breast, had 
begged that the youth see to it that this packet, 
along with his watch and money, be delivered to 
his wife, who lived in Boston. Roger had man- 
aged to retain the packet, but the timepiece and 
money had been confiscated by the British soldiers, 
who came up and made the lad a prisoner. Upon 
escaping and returning home, Roger had placed 
the packet, which was sealed up and addressed to 
Mrs. Constance Brascoe, in the safest place the 
house afforded. At present, with Boston in a 
state of siege, it did not look as if the boy would 
be able to keep the promise made to the fallen 


ROGER DETERMINES TO LEAVE HOME. 1 9 

lieutenant ; for he had determined, since the times 
were so uncertain, that, if the packet was to be 
delivered at all, he personally must undertake the 
mission. “ I won’t let the papers go out of my 
possession until I hand them over to Mrs. Bras- 
coe,” he told himself. ‘‘ My word to the dead 
lieutenant must not be broken.” Little did he 
dream of all of the adventures in store for him, 
for which that packet was to be largely responsi- 
ble. 


CHAPTER 11. 

A PRECIOUS KEG OF POWDER. 

Roger ! ” 

The call came from the gateway, directly after 
the noon hour, and looking up, Roger saw Paul 
Darly standing there, flint-lock musket on his 
shoulder. 

ril be with you in a minute, Paul,” was the 
reply, and, stepping back into the house, Roger 
brought down his own weapon from where it 
hung between two deer-heads. I’m off, mother,” 
he called out, and, with a wave of his hand to 
his parent and Dorothy, he ran down to join his 
chum. 

“Whar ye goin’ ” came, in a shrill Yankee 
voice, and the tall form of Hen Peabody came 
into sight from the orchard. “ Both armed, eh } 
’Pears like ye wuz a-goin’ to jine the minute men 
down at Cambridge.” 

^‘Not just yet. Hen,” answered Roger. “We 
are off on a hunt for powder.” 

“ Gee shoo ! an’ whar do ye calkerlate to pick 


20 


A PRECIOUS KEG OF POWDER. 


21 


up powder in these days, tell me thet ? Why, 
powder is wuth its weight in silver now, an’ before 
long it will be wuth its weight in gold, so Mr. 
Small was tellin’ me.” 

“ Roger thinks he has spotted a small keg of 
powder,” answered Paul. ‘‘We are going to see 
if he is right.” 

“Perhaps I may be mistaken, but it won’t do 
any harm to look,” put in Roger, and told the 
hired man upon what he based his hopes. 

“Wall, it’s wuth investigatin’, thet’s sure,” was 
Hen’s slow comment. “But, boys, be careful 
whar ye go, for I have it from Jonas Anderson 
this mornin’ thet the British have a number o’ 
spies around here. If they caught ye with a keg 
o’ powder they would kill ye, — jest to git the 
powder away.” 

“We’ll keep our eyes open.” 

“ An’ when are ye calkerlatin’ to git back } ” 

“ We’ll be back by six o’clock, unless something 
unusual happens,” concluded Roger, and then he 
and Paul made off down the road leading past 
the tavern and the meeting-house and up a side 
path, which was a short cut to the old stone house 
they had in mind to visit. 

“ My, but what a day that was when we chased 
the redcoats back to Boston along this road ! ” 
observed Paul, as they hurried along. “ Here is 
where Lord Percy came up with his reinforce- 


22 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

merits, and wasn’t those other fellows glad to get 
behind his fresh troops and rest ? ” 

“It was certainly a great day, Paul. But, to 
my mind, greater days are still to follow. Now 
we have driven the British soldiers into Boston, 
we haven’t got them fast there, by any manner of 
means.” 

“ Oh, I Jcnow that. But you mustn’t forget 
that our men are pouring in from everywhere, and 
before long we’ll have a regular anny stationed at 
Charlestown, Cambridge,” Dorchester, and in be- 
tween, and what are the British to do, then } 
They’ll have to starve to death.” 

“ Starve or fight ; and it’s my opinion they’ll 
come out and fight, and when they do they won’t 
make such a mess of it as they did at our town 
and Concord.” 

“ Do you mean to say they can whip us, Roger 
Morse ” demanded Paul, indignantly. 

“Whip us} You know me better than that, 
Paul. No, they can’t — or rather they sha’n’t — 
whip us. But another battle will be no child’s 
play, that is what I am driving at.” 

“ I do hope we find the powder. I heard father 
say that powder was getting so scarce there was 
some talk of putting pikemen into the companies 
instead of fellows with flintlocks. It would be too 
bad if some of our gallant fighters had to give up 
their muskets and take to old-fashioned pikes.” 


A PRECIOUS KEG OF POWDER. 


23 


“We’ll get powder, somehow,” returned Roger, 
confidently. “ I heard somebody say they had 
sent to New York and other places for some. But 
those supplies may be a long time in getting here, 
since they can’t come in by way of Boston Har- 
bour. By the way, did Dick say anything about 
what is in the wind for next Saturday ? ” 

“ You mean the expedition to Hog and Noddle’s 
Islands .? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ To be sure, and if you go I’m to go too. I was 
talking it over with my folks just before I came 
away. If we can’t have powder those redcoats 
sha’n’t have those hogs and cattle. Frank Nelson 
said he had heard fresh beef was up to four 
shillings a pound already. In another month I’ll 
wager they can’t get fresh beef in Boston at any 
price, unless some stores arrive from England, 
and I reckon by that time that we will have some 
vessels out to cut ’em off.” 

Allowing their conversation to run on in this 
fashion, the two boys presently entered the wood 
upon the opposite boundary of which the stone 
house was situated. It was a sunny May day, 
and the timber was alive with birds, while here 
and there sported a squirrel or a rabbit. 

“ How I would like to bring that fellow 
down ! ” cried Paul, as a rabbit popped up and 
gazed at them in wonder. “Doesn’t he look 


24 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

as if he knew I didn’t dare to waste my powder 
on him ? ” 

‘‘ We can’t afford to fire on anything excepting 
it be a redcoat — or a wolf,” answered Roger, and 
he shuddered as he remembered the encounter he 
had had with a wolf at a spot not over a mile away. 

The boys continued onward, until the edge of 
the wood was gained and the old stone house 
came into view. It was still deserted, and, from 
the outside, looked just as it had on the day 
Roger had left it. 

“Now we’ll soon learn if I was right or not,” 
said the youth, and shoved open the heavy oaken 
door, which creaked dismally on its rusty hinges. 
“ Dark as pitch,” he went on. “ Paul, strike a 
light, will you } ”’ 

A flint and steel were quickly produced, and 
soon a bit of tinder was set in a blaze, and then 
they lit a short candle that Roger had brought 
along. 

“ Windows covered with thick dirt don’t let in 
much light,” observed Roger. “ However, I think 
this candle will do. Paul, hold it up as high as 
you can, and I’ll climb up to that top shelf of the 
cupboard. What thick slabs of wood ! The man 
who had this cupboard to build must have cut his 
boards with a broadaxe. If the keg is up here 
I’ll soon have it out, and if it isn’t, then we’ve 
come on a fool’s errand.” 


A PRECIOUS KEG OF POWDER. 25 

Oh, but I hope it — ” began Paul, when 
Roger interrupted him with a low cry. 

“ Here is the keg, sure enough ! 

“ Hurrah ! ” 

“ Don’t hurrah yet.” 

But if you’ve got it — ” 

“ It smells like dried fish.” 

“ Oh, Roger ! ” Paul gave a deep groan. Don’t 
say we came away over here for a keg of decayed 
fish ! ” 

It looks that way, — and smells that way, 
too, Paul. Look out. I’m coming down ! ” And 
as Paul stepped back Roger landed on the floor, 
hugging a fair-sized keg to his chest. 

He had scarcely landed when a bung which 
was placed in one end of the keg popped out, 
followed by a small quantity of stuff which looked 
like fine black sand. Some of this struck the 
candle, and instantly there were half a dozen tiny 
flashes. 

‘‘ It’s powder ! ” yelled Paul, and as another 
flash went up he dropped the candle and fled to 
the doorway. “ Come on, the thing is going up ! ” 
The flashes around the candle also startled 
Roger, and his hold of the keg not being a very 
good one, the thing slipped from his grasp and 
rolled on the floor, close to where the candle lay 
spluttering. The powder began to pour from the 
bung-hole, and light and explosive lay within a 


26 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

couple of feet of each other. With his heart in his 
throat, Roger followed after Paul, and both sped 
from the stone house for their lives. 

“We — we — oh, how foolish!” burst from 
Roger’s lips, when they had covered a hundred 
feet or more, and come to a halt on the safe 
side of a big elm tree. “To find the powder only 
to burn it up ! ” 

“ But why doesn’t the keg explode } ” ques- 
tioned Paul, after a few seconds of silence. “ I 
thought it was going up right away.” 

“ So did I. I suppose the candle hasn’t burned 
low enough yet. If only you hadn’t dropped the 
light.” 

“ And if only you hadn’t dropped the keg.” 

“Well, don’t let us blame each other, Paul. 
What is done can’t be undone, unless — ” Roger 
paused. 

“ Unless what } ” 

“There is still time in which to save the 
powder.” 

“ What I do you think to go back for it .? ” 

Roger hesitated, expecting every minute to 
hear a tremendous explosion. “ We might go 
back,” he answered, as no shock occurred. 
“Maybe the light has gone out.” 

“ I’d rather wait awhile longer.” 

“ But then it may be too late, if the light 
is burning toward the powder. Come on, — 


A PRECIOUS KEG OF POWDER. 

Tm going,” and Roger started back for the 
house. 

Don’t you do it, Roger ; you’ll be blown into 
a thousand pieces.” 

It won’t do any harm to take a peep.” 

“It will, if the keg goes up just when you are 
peeping.” 

“ I’ll risk that. You needn’t come if you don’t 
want to.” 

Roger moved back toward the deserted house, 
and, not to, be thought a coward, Paul followed, 
but with legs that trembled so they could scarcely 
sustain him. 

When the two came within sight of the dwell- 
ing, they paused again, and made a detour, which 
brought them in a direct line with the half-open 
doorway and the interior. 

“Do — do you see — see it ” asked Paul, in a 
voice that trembled, in spite of all he could do 
to steady it. 

“ I can’t see a thing,” was the answer. “ Both 
keg and light are behind the door, close to the 
cupboard.” 

“ Can’t you see anything of the light ? ” 

“ No ; wait, I am going to try that window on 
the right,” and Roger hurried off in the direction. 
He soon came to the opening. The glass was 
weather-stained, and full of cobwebs, but from the 
lower sash one of the little panes was missing. 


28 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Should he venture close enough to look inside ? 
It would be taking a big risk, for if the keg of 
powder went up, the dilapidated stone house was 
certain to be totally wrecked. 

“ Don’t you go, it’s too risky ! ” shouted Paul, 
hoarsely. He had again retreated to the shelter 
of a tree. 

But Roger was bent upon saving the powder, if 
the deed could be done, and, waiting only an 
instant longer, he rushed swiftly up to the open- 
ing. One searching glance into the broad kitchen, 
and he hastened to rejoin Paul. 

“Well.?” 

“ The candle is still lit, and lies flat,” was the 
answer. “The keg of powder is two feet away 
from it, and about a handful of the powder is 
on the floor. It won’t catch until the tallow runs 
over the boards, and sets fire to it.” 

“Well, it won’t take the burning grease long 
to do that. Let us get back,” and Paul caught 
Roger by the arm. 

“ I’m not going to go back,” was the reply. 

“ You’re not .? Why, Roger, you can’t be 
thinking of — ” and Paul paused in horror. 

“ But I am thinking of saving the powder. Do 
you know what I’m going to do .? Wet my 
jacket in yonder brook, creep into the house, 
and souse that light out, and I’m going to do it 
right now ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 


THREE STRANGE MEN. 

Roger, it’s suicide ! ” 

“ I don’t think it is, — not if I hurry.” 

“ But if the powder should go up — ” 

It hasn’t gone up yet, Paul.” Roger threw 
of his powder-horn, and pulled off his jacket. 
“There is no time to waste.” And with a bound 
he reached the tiny brook that flowed between 
the trees, and wet the bottom of his jacket. 
“ Now, I’m ready,” and he started for the house 
again. 

“ Better come back,” urged Paul, but the fear- 
less youth paid no attention. He was going to 
save the powder if the deed could be done. 

It must not be imagined that Roger was not 
aware of the danger he was running. He knew 
it only too well ; and as he gained the doorstep 
leading into the broad and gloomy kitchen, the 
beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead, 
and he breathed a silent prayer to Pleaven for 
deliverance from harm. It was only because he 
knew how valuable that keg of powder would be 
29 


30 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 


to the minute boys and men, that he ran such 
a fearful risk. 

The kitchen floor was gained at last, and two 
yards away lay the candle and the powder, the 
former spluttering more furiously than ever, as 
the. hot tallow ran in all directions. 

Roger held the jacket in both hands, ready to 
shield his face should the explosion come, — a 
poor protection, indeed, in case of such a disaster. 
Now he moved forward swiftly, but without 
daring to jar the somewhat shaky floor. The 
candle reached, he lowered the jacket over that 
fascinating blaze, and total darkness followed. 

‘‘ Heaven be praised ! ” burst from his lips. 
Then he raised his voice joyfully. ‘‘Come in, 
Paul, it’s out ! ” 

“ Are you certain ? ” came from outside. 

“Yes, I’m certain. Strike another light, but 
be sure to keep it at a proper distance.” 

“Trust me for that. Roger, you’re the bravest 
fellow I know of, indeed you are ! ” 

“ Don’t spend time in praising me, Paul ; strike 
the light, and I’ll put the bung back in the 
keg, and see that it stays there. The powder 
on the floor we can put in our horns. This is 
a fine haul, for the keg holds all of twenty 
pounds.” 

“ It will be a load to carry home. There is 
the light. Better carry that keg into the open 


THREE STRANGE MEN. 3 I 

air before you bother with the powder on the 
floor.” 

“ I will.” Roger caught up the keg, hammered 
in the bung, and passed outside. ‘‘Won’t the 
men be surprised when we distribute this among 
them .? ” 

“ Will you distribute it It belongs to you, 
Roger.” 

“ I don’t think so, Paul. In the first place. 
I’m certain that Sergeant Kegan’s crowd stole 
it from somebody living between here and Bos- 
ton ; and, in the second place, I think that, in 
times like these, all the powder and ball we have 
ought to be divided up equally among the men 
and boys who are ready to fight for our side.” 

The keg deposited in a safe place, the two boys 
returned to the kitchen, and with the blade of 
a broad jack-knife lifted up every grain of powder 
left, and transferred it to their horns. “ If it is 
going to be worth its weight in gold, we can’t 
afford to miss a smitch,” remarked Paul. 

“The sergeant never lived to tell about this 
powder,” observed Roger, as they prepared to 
leave. “ Poor fellow, he was a brute, but still it 
was awful the way he died, with a bullet through 
one eye.” 

“ And two of his men were killed, too, weren’t 
they ? ” 

“Yes, a private named Patten, and another 


32 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

named Yorston. But Windotte, the fellow who 
put the keg up in the cupboard, got away with the 
rest of the troops to Boston.” Roger mused for 
a moment. He was an odd-looking chap, that 
Windotte.” 

How odd-looking ” 

“Why, he had such a queer, thin, pale face, 
and no hair on it. His skin was as soft as a 
woman’s.” 

“ Maybe he was a woman in man’s clothing.” 

“ Oh, no, I don’t think that. I rather think he 
was just getting over a long spell of sickness. 
By the way, they say the smallpox in Boston is 
something awful.” 

“Yes, I heard that, too. If our soldiers catch 
the disease, it will go hard — Who was 
that } ” 

Paul Darly broke off short, as a form emerged 
into an opening ten paces away. As he pointed 
with his finger, the form disappeared. 

“ Did you see anybody } ” demanded Roger, 
quickly. 

“ I did, — a man. He is gone now.” 

“ One of the minute men ? ” 

“ I don’t think — There is another, and an- 
other. Roger, they are coming this way, and they 
are strangers to me ! ” 

Roger did not answer. But close at hand 
was a hollow, and into this he rolled the keg of 


THREE STRANGE MEN 


33 


powder, covering the article with some of the 
numerous leaves which lay scattered about. 

The keg was scarcely out of sight when the 
three strangers strode up. They were good-look- 
ing men, well dressed in shining waistcoats, ruffled 
fronts, and each wore a pair of cavalry boots with 
spurs attached. 

Hi, boys, what are you doing here t ” de- 
manded the leader of the three, as he stopped 
short in evident surprise. 

“ We are not doing very much,” answered 
Roger, steadily. “And what brings you here, 
sirs } ” 

At this the three men frowned. “ Zounds ! 
but must we answer a boy’s questions 1 ” muttered 
one, in a low tone. 

“We must be civil,” answered his companion. 
“ See, the young rascals are armed.” 

“Are you out hunting for redcoats .? ” said the 
leader, with a forced laugh. 

“ If we were, we wouldn’t expect to find them 
here,” replied Paul, promptly. “The redcoats, I 
imagine, know enough to keep inside of Boston.” 

“No doubt they do, lad. So you are out gun- 
ning, eh ” 

“We haven’t knocked over anything yet,” re- 
turned Roger. 

“I thought powder was too scarce for this 
kind of sport ? ” And now the leader of the 


34 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

three newcomers eyed Roger more sharply than 
ever. 

“Powder is scarce, sir ; still we have a little 
left, — half a horn full,” and Roger tapped the 
article mentioned. “We have to shoot with care, 
when we do shoot.” 

“ Which way are you bound now ” 

“We are working our way toward Lexington. 
Are you going on to Woburn } ” 

“What is that to you.^ ” growled the man who 
had first demanded if they must answer a boy’s 
questions. 

His manner made Roger angry, and he straight- 
ened up stiffly. 

“ Haven’t we as much right to ask questions as 
you, sir he said. 

“ Oh, that’s all right, lad, don’t get angry,” put 
in the leader of the newcomers. “Yes, we are 
bound for Woburn. You see, we were riding for 
that place when our horses took fright at the 
tavern and ran off. They belong in Woburn, and 
are certain to turn up there. Hope you have luck 
in your hunt after game. Good evening,” and 
the man motioned for his companions to move 
off with him. The quarrelsome fellow still hung 
back. 

“ It’s all nonsense, Becket,” he said. “ Cameron 
and I — ” 

“That’s all right. Maxwell ; come on,” returned 


THREE STRANGE MEN 


35 


he called Becket, and after an instant’s delay the 
three moved along, taking a course parallel to the 
brook, which ran between two small hills and then 
along the meadow adjoining the estate owned by 
Uriah Bedwell, the Tory who had fled to Boston 
after his mansion was burned down. 

Roger and Paul remained standing where they 
were until the three men were out of sight. Each 
looked inquiringly at the other. 

“ What do you think of this ? ” demanded Paul. 

I think all is not as it should be,” answered 
Roger. “ Those men are strangers in these parts, 
and they wear city clothing. I’ll wager a sack of 
grain they come from Boston.” 

‘‘ Perhaps we had better follow them.” 

“Just my idea, Paul. Wait a moment, until I 
hide this keg in the house again, so it won’t get 
wet in case it rains, and I’ll be with you. If 
those men are spies, our minute men ought to 
know it.” 

The powder was soon returned to the old stone 
house, and then both boys hurried in the direction 
the three men had taken, being careful, however, 
to keep out of sight. 

“If they see us and learn we are spying on 
them, they won’t hesitate to do us foul,” said 
Roger. “ For as spies they’ll know they carry 
their lives in their hands.” 

On went the party of three until the meadow 


36 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

before mentioned was gained. At a distance of a 
hundred and fifty yards stood the black ruins of 
what had once been Uriah Bedwell’s costly man- 
sion. Not so much as one stone or half-burnt 
timber had been touched by the men who had 
driven him from the district. A short distance 
from the dwelling stood the spacious barn, also 
untouched, but empty of horses, cattle, and fodder, 
for the Tory had had some of his few friends 
transfer all to the besieged city. 

‘‘They are making for Bedwelhs barn,” an- 
nounced Roger, from behind a convenient tree. 
“ I believe the three are some of the Tory’s city 
friends.” 

“ But what are they up to .? ” 

“ That remains to be seen, Paul. Lay low now, 
for they may take a look around before they go 
in.” 

The two lads had scarcely dropped behind some 
brush before the three men paused and gazed 
about them. “ They see us ! ” whispered Paul, 
excitedly, as one pointed in their direction. But 
he was mistaken ; and a second later the men 
entered the barn, closing the big doors after 
them. 

“ Now what’s to do } ” demanded Paul, for he 
felt that Roger was the leader of the expedition, 
just as he was the leader in all that the minute 
boys undertook to do. 


THREE STRANGE MEN. 


37 


I know what I am going to do,” answered 
Roger. ‘‘ I’m going up to the barn and find out 
what they are at.” 

“ But if you get caught — ” 

“We have as much right to come here as they, 
haven’t we .? ” 

“But we said something about going toward 
Lexington.” 

“And they admitted being bound for Woburn. 
The Woburn road is a good half mile to the north 
of this place.” 

“ They may say they lost the way.” 

“ And we thought there might be good shoot- 
ing in the meadow,” laughed Roger. “Will you 
come along or stay here ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ll go along,” answered Paul, and with- 
out more ado the pair crept along the brush and 
the edge of the brook until the rear of the big 
barn was gained. Then they made a quick dash 
for the wagon-house beside the structure. 

They were now within fifteen or twenty feet of 
the three men, and Roger motioned for Paul to 
remain silent, at the same time tapping his mus- 
ket significantly. There was a knothole handy, 
and to this the leader of the minute boys applied 
his eye. 

He saw that one of the men had lit a candle 
and was holding it up, while the other two were 
at work on the slab flooring of the barn, one with 


38 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

a hatchet and the other with a flat iron crowbar. 
Drawing back, he allowed Paul to take a peep. 

Something valuable is under that floor,” whis- 
pered Paul, a few seconds later. 

Roger nodded, and took a second look. Soon 
one of the slabs of the flooring came up, revealing 
half a dozen iron-bound boxes hidden underneath. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY. 

“Ah, men, here they are, just as Bedwell said 
we would find them,” exclaimed the man called 
Becket, as the six iron-bound boxes came into 
view. “ Now if they contain what he said they 
did, we have made a rich haul indeed.” 

“Better open the boxes first,” growled the man 
called Maxwell. “ I wouldn’t trust Bedwell under 
oath, — the miserly lawyer that he is.” 

“ Neither would I trust him,” said Cameron, 
the third man. “ But in this case he had an axe 
to grind. He was afraid to come for his plate 
himself.” 

“ We’ll soon know the truth. Help me lift the 
boxes up,” returned Becket ; and with the candle 
on an empty feed-box, all three of the men started 
in, after another slab was removed, to hoist the 
iron-bound boxes to the top of the floor. This 
accomplished, it was an easy matter to remove 
the covers, which had been secured in a hasty 
manner with only a few small nails. 

By this time Paul had found a crack in the 
39 


40 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

barn’s side, and he was gazing on the scene as in- 
tently as Roger. Both boys fairly held their breath 
to catch every word that was being uttered. 

His plate,” cried Cameron, as the first and 
second boxes were uncovered, revealing numerous 
articles of silverware, all of which had been thrown 
into the receptacles in extreme haste, as the pack- 
ing, or rather want of packing, showed. This 
stuff must be worth some money.” 

Bedwell valued his plate at two hundred 
pounds,” answered Becket. Most of it came 
to him through his aunt, who was a Brascoe.” 

“ A Brascoe } ” queried Cameron, and Roger 
pricked up his ears. “ Any relation to Lieut. 
Alan Brascoe, who was shot down in the Lexing- 
ton fight 1 ” 

Yes, she was an aunt to him, too. That is 
how the Brascoes and Mrs. Bedwell fell heirs to 
that land down in New York. They say it’s very 
valuable ground, too.” 

While talking, the men had uncovered the third 
and fourth boxes. Each was found to be tightly 
packed with pistols of the very latest English 
patterns. With the weapons were also several 
packages of flints. 

“ Now we are coming to the stuff that interests 
us ! ” cried Cameron. “ If those traitorous minute 
men had only known of this, how they would have 
rushed hither to arm themselves afresh ! ” 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY. 4 1 

“ It was a pity Bedwell could not get the loyal 
men of the neighbourhood to arm themselves,” 
replied Maxwell. “ But I presume the traitors 
watched them too closely. Now for those other 
boxes.” 

The covers came off as easily as was expected, 
and there lay revealed, in one, two rows of twenty- 
four muskets, and in the other, five dozen powder- 
horns, each filled ready for use, with as many bul- 
let-bags to match, also filled. 

‘‘ What a splendid company he could have 
armed ! ” cried Becket, as he surveyed the mus- 
kets, pistols, and ammunition. 

If only we can get all of this stuff safe into 
Boston,” put in Cameron. “The more I think of 
it, the more I imagine we have cut out a big piece 
of work for ourselves.” 

“ We will have to move 'with care,” returned 
Becket. “ But Briarley will have his team ready 
at eight o’clock to-night, and we can place the 
boxes under his household goods, and as he has 
a pass to move into Boston, the rest will be easy. 
What time is it now } ” 

“ It lacks two hours of sundown yet.” 

“ One of us ought to remain here, while the 
others can go on to Briarley’s.” 

“ Let us put the stuff back into place first, — 
for fear some inquisitive minute man comes nosing 
around.” 


42 THE MINUTE BOVS OF BUNKER HILL, 

This was agreed to, and, after lowering the 
boxes, the flooring was thrown into place. Then 
the men tossed up a sixpence piece among them, 
and decided that Becket should remain on guard, 
while Cameron and Maxwell journeyed on to the 
homestead of Josiah Briarley, half a mile distant. 
During the Lexington and Concord fights Briar- 
ley had remained a non-combatant. It was known 
that he was inclined to Toryism, but that he in- 
tended to remove himself and his household goods 
to Boston was news to Roger and Paul. 

Taking care that they should not be discovered, 
the two lads watched the pair of men depart. 
Left to himself, Becket pulled from a pocket a 
flask of rum, took a deep potion, and then pro- 
ceeded to make himself as comfortable as the bare 
state of the building permitted. 

“We must get help, and without losing a min- 
ute,” whispered Roger to his chum. “ Come on,” 
and he led the way to the brook and the brush. 

“ But where shall we go .? ” questioned Paul. 
“ Almost all of the men are on guard duty around 
Boston, as you know.” 

“If it wasn’t too far I’d go for Hen,” answered 
Roger. Then his face brightened. “ Mr. Win- 
throp and Dick are home. I’ll get them. Paul, 
won’t you go for Hen ? — you can run the distance 
in less than half an hour, I know you can. And 
the more men we gather the better ; for we must 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY. 43 

not only overpower this Becket, but also capture 
Cameron and Maxwell.” 

“ Y es, and Briarley, too, since he is in this plot 
to carry off these military stores,” returned Paul. 
“Yes, ril go for Hen,” and in a second more he 
had started, running at the full speed of his sturdy, 
youthful legs. 

The Winthrop homestead lay close to the side 
of a small hill, where the Concord road made a 
turn. As Roger had been there many times, and 
had approached it through these very woods, he 
chose the most direct path, and reached the place 
in less than twenty minutes. 

“ Why, Roger, what brings you here to-day ? ” 

It was the voice of Nellie Winthrop, who called 
to him from the dooryard, where she was tak- 
ing down some clothes that had been drying. 

“ Good evening, Nellie,” he responded, and ad- 
vanced toward her with a bright smile. “ I came 
to get your father and Dick, if they are at 
home.” 

“And what is the matter I saw you come 
out of the wood on the run.” 

“ I have discovered three Englishmen, who are 
planning to remove some arms, ammunition, and 
plateware to Boston,” returned the youth, quickly. 
“ Are your father and Dick at home ? ” 

“ We are,” came a cry from the kitchen of the 
homestead, and Dick Winthrop showed himself. 


44 the minute boys oe bunker hill. 

“ Father, come here ! ” he called over his shoulder. 
“Roger Morse wants us.” 

Mr. Winthrop had been at work in the stable 
and was just shedding a smock-frock. He came 
forth with an anxious look on his face. 

In as few words as possible, Roger related his 
story in detail, to which all, including Mrs. Win- 
throp, who followed her husband to the dooryard, 
listened with interest. 

“To be sure, we must capture those men!” 
exclaimed the man, readily. “ I will be with you 
in a moment. Dick, run down to the potato 
patch and call Nat Smith. He can go along. I’ll 
get the two guns and the pistol. I think the 
best thing to do will be to capture that man at 
Bedwell’s barn, and make him a close prisoner, 
and then lie low for the others when they come 
along with Briarley.” 

“But, husband, don’t run too much of a risk,” 
pleaded Mrs. Winthrop. “ They may be desperate 
characters.” 

“We will take them by surprise,” was the an- 
swer, and Mr. Winthrop turned away to get the 
weapons he had mentioned. His wife followed 
him, and this gave Roger and Nellie a few min- 
utes to themselves. 

“You are better,” said the girl, half tenderly, 
as she looked at the wound on his forehead. “ I 
am very glad to hear it.” 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY. 45 

At this Roger blushed. “Yes, I am quite my- 
self again, Nellie,” he replied. 

“ Heaven be praised for it,” said the girl, rev- 
erently. She was of old Puritan stock, and deeply 
religious. “ Dick tells me you think of joining 
father in that expedition to Hog and Noddle’s 
Islands,” she went on, after a moment’s pause. 
“ Oh, Roger, do take care of yourself ! ” 

“ I will be careful, Nellie, — since you ask it of 
me,” he whispered ; and then their hands met in a 
warm pressure which each understood thoroughly. 
“ And you be sure to take care of yourself while 
I am away,” he went on. Then Mr. Winthrop 
came out, and they separated. 

Soon Dick came back on the run, with Nat 
Smith, a hired man, following. “ Dick sez as how 
we’re to fight some Britishers,” said Nat Smith. 
“ If so be I kin help, I goes along. I bees a true 
Liberty Boy, an’ I wants ’em to know the same ! ” 
And he clutched the pistol his employer handed 
out. Smith was a Devon farmer, but since land- 
ing in Massachusetts four years before had been 
very bitter against his countrymen that had been 
left behind. “ I came away to be let alone,” he 
would say. “ And so being as it is, what right 
have any of they to come over here to bother 
I .? ” 

The party of four took the path Roger had pur- 
sued, moving along in Indian file, with the youth 


46 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

in advance. They did not run, but their walk 
was rapid. When the edge of the clearing was 
gained, and they came in sight of the barn, Mr. 
Winthrop halted his companions. 

“ See to it that your weapons are ready for use,” 
he said. Dick, you need a better flint than 
that,” and he handed one over. 

They were on the point of moving forward 
again, when they saw the man named Becket 
come forth and gaze around anxiously. Suddenly 
the fellow turned, and disappeared into the barn 
like a flash. 

“ He saw one or more of us,” cried Dick. 
“What’s to do now, father.?” 

“ Since we are four to one, we might as well 
advance upon the rascal,” answered the parent. 
“ He will see how foolish resistance would 
prove.” 

The four advanced through the meadow grass, 
their weapons held ready for use should there 
come a call to use them. Presently they stood at 
the barn doors, and Mr. Winthrop pushed them 
open. 

“ Come out of there, and give yourself up ! ” he 
called. “ We are four to one, so resistance is out 
of the question.” 

To these words there was no reply, and now 
Roger pushed his way into the place with Dick 
following. 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY. 47 

“ He is gone ! ” cried Roger, after a swift look 
around. 

He can’t be gone, for we saw him,” answered 
Mr. Winthrop. Nat, remain outside on guard, 
and you can go, too, Dick. He may try to run 
for it on the sly. Roger and I will hunt in- 
side.” 

This plan was carried out ; and while Mr. 
Winthrop remained below, Roger mounted to the 
loft. Fortunately, when going on a hunt for the 
keg of powder, he had carried two candles with 
him. He now lit the remaining one, and this 
gave him some light in a loft which, otherwise, 
would have been pitch-dark. 

“ Do you see anything of him ? ” demanded 
Mr. Winthrop, after the youth had been hunting 
around for fully five minutes. 

I do not. Isn’t he below ? ” 

<‘Not that I can see. But he must be some- 
where. Any loose hay for him to hide in ? ” 

Not a forkful.” 

It is strange,” mused Mr. Winthrop. I 
wonder if he crawled out on the roof ? ” 

He called to his son, and Dick and Nat Smith 
made a thorough tour of inspection. Nothing 
could be seen of Becket, and in a short while all 
of the party were convinced that he had left the 
vicinity. 

I’ll tell you what he did,” said Roger, When 


48 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

he saw us coming from the wood, he ran back into 
the barn and out by that hole in the rear, and then 
off, keeping the barn between himself and us, so 
as not to be seen. The chances are that he is 
making for Briarley’s house just as fast as he can 
leg it.” 

“ But the guns and ammunition are safe, aren’t 
they } ” put in Dick, who felt sadly in need of a 
new musket and some powder. All of his powder 
had been consumed at the Lexington fight, and 
the stock of his gun had been shattered through 
being used as a club on a redcoat, who was trying 
to run off with a neighbour’s silver service. 

“Yes, all of the boxes are here,” answered 
Roger. “Now if we — Hullo, here come Paul 
and Hen ! ” 

“ Whar air they.^” came in a cry from the 
Morses’ hired man, as he approached on a limp- 
ing run. 

“Gone, Hen,” said Roger, and explained the 
situation. 

“They ought tew be caught, an’ Briarley, too, 
the mean skinflint ! ” burst out Hen. “ I’ve had 
it in fer Briarley ever sence he swindled us on fhet 
load o’ musty corn,” and the tall Vermonter shook 
his head decidedly. 

The matter was talked over for a few minutes, 
and it was decided that Paul and Nat Smith 
should remain at the barn, guarding the boxes 


THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ENEMY. 49 

and keeping a watch for the possible return of the 
three Englishmen. Mr. Winthrop, Roger, Dick, 
and Hen were to lose no time in reaching Josiah 
Briarley’s home, to head off the enemy at that 
point if it could be done. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE CONFISCATION OF THE MILITARY STORES. 

I TRUST we catch this man Becket,” observed 
Roger to Dick, as the two chums hurried along 
side by side. ‘‘ Of course you remember that I 
am holding a packet in trust for a Mrs. Brascoe, 
the widow of that British lieutenant. Well, I 
heard this Becket mention the Brascoes. Probably 
he can give me just such information as I desire 
concerning the widow.” 

“Why don’t you send the packet in through 
the guards at Boston Neck, Roger They’ll take 
it quick enough.” 

“No, I feel it my duty to deliver the packet 
personally. I would never forgive myself if I let 
it go and it got lost. I don’t believe the siege of 
Boston will last very long. The British troops 
will grow tired of being penned in, and they’ll 
come out and fight, or else we’ll do some assaulting.” 

“ Father thinks we have just seen the beginning 
of this war, Roger. He says we’ll have no easy 
time of it to wrench our freedom from England.” 

“ I don’t doubt but what he is right, Dick, for 
50 


CONFISCATION OF MILITAFY S TOFFS. 5 I 

the colonies are too rich to let go without a fierce 
struggle to retain them. What a shame the 
mother country can’t treat us fairly, and then we 
wouldn’t want to break away ! ” 

“ King George and Parliament are acting very 
foolishly. I believe the majority of the English 
would gladly treat us better, were it in their power 
to do so. But now the first blow has been struck, 
it will be fight to the bitter end.” 

The journeys hither and thither since leaving 
his home that afternoon had somewhat tired Roger, 
and, consequently, he could not push on as rapidly 
as Mr. Winthrop desired. “ Leave me behind,” 
he said, at last. It will be foolish to wait for me 
and let that man Becket give his companions the 
alarm.” And on the three went. Hen shouting 
back to the boy to take good care of himself. 

An’ ef any o’ them rascals appear, better shoot 
’em on the spot,” was the hired man’s final injunc- 
tion. 

They were pursuing a foot-path over a stony 
hill, and now, when left alone, Roger turned and 
made his way to the highway that ran past Josiah 
Briarley’s residence. No use of cutting a fellow’s 
feet to pieces,” he reasoned, for he wore nothing 
better than a worn pair of low buckle shoes. 

The highway was gained, and he was wondering 
if the others had yet reached the rear of Briarley’s 
home, when the sound of horses’ hoofs came to his 


52 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

ears. He listened intently and made out three 
horses approaching. 

“ And from Briarley’s house ! ” he murmured. 
“ If it — The three Englishmen ! ” 

The boy was right. The three Englishmen, 
booted and spurred, as previously mentioned, were 
riding toward him at top speed. As Roger had 
surmised, Becket had lost no time in reaching 
Briarley’s house and informing his companions 
that their plan to remove the goods secreted by 
Uriah Bed well was discovered. The one thought 
of the trio was now to get back to Boston in 
safety. 

I must stop them somehow,” thought the 
youth, and his heart leaped into his throat. Then, 
seized with a sudden idea, he raised his musket 
and fired it into the air as a signal. 

The unexpected shot caused the three horsemen 
to draw rein and gaze ahead inquiringly. They 
were still fifty yards from where Roger stood, and 
the youth had drawn to the shelter of some brush 
and trees. In feverish haste the old flintlock was 
reloaded, and then the boy waited for the next 
move on the part of those before him. 

“ Cameron, what does that mean ? ” demanded 
Becket, somewhat nervously. .. 

I cannot imagine,” was the reply. Perhaps 
somebody is out gunning.” 

Perhaps, but I don’t like it. We are not 


CONFISCATION OF MILITARY STORES. 53 

such a great distance from Bedwell’s house, re- 
member.” 

“ Don’t stop here,” came from Maxwell. “ Every 
minute lost may prove our ruin. If those minute 
men catch us they will not hesitate to string us up 
to the nearest trees.” 

“ Oh, they are not quite so bloodthirsty as that,” 
rejoined Becket. “Well, come on, but keep your 
eyes wide open and your pistols ready.” 

The three horsemen started ahead, but on a 
walk, with Becket gazing straight forward, and 
the others to the right and the left. Their pistols 
had been in their holsters, but now each kept his 
weapon in one hand while holding the reins in the 
other. 

“ Hold up there, please ! ” 

It was a cry from Roger, and, lowering his mus- 
ket, he stepped squarely into view. 

“ One of the boys ! ” muttered Becket, savagely. 
“The one that brought the others to the barn.” 
He raised his voice. “What do you want.?” he 
demanded. 

“ I wish to speak to you,” returned Roger. If 
only he could gain a little time he knew all would 
be well, for Hen would want to follow up the 
signal-shot without delay. 

“ I haven’t any time to talk to you,” answered 
Becket. “ Where are those others who were with 
you .? ” 


54 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

“I don’t know exactly,” said Roger, telling the 
literal truth. ‘‘ But I think there is some mistake 
here,” he went on. “Were we to remove those 
stores for Uriah Bed well, or were you hired to do 
it .? ” 

“ Why — er — what do you mean } ” stammered 
Becket, while his companions gazed at Roger in 
amazement. “Did Bedwell say anything to you 
about the — the — you know.” 

“I’d like to know what he said to you first, sir. 
I think we must be working against one another 
without reason. You see, I and my neighbours 
know Briarley quite well. He’s a good Tea- 
drinker, too,” and Roger gazed at Becket mean- 
ingly. In those days, when the patriots had 
refused to drink tea rather than use that which 
England had taxed, to say a man drank tea was 
equivalent to proclaiming him an upholder of King 
George III. 

Roger spoke slowly, realising that every second 
of time gained would be to his favour. He did 
not dare glance up the road behind the horsemen, 
but kept his gaze fixed upon Becket as the leader 
of the party. 

“ Boy, what is your name } ” spoke up Max- 
well. 

“ That doesn’t matter, sir. I want to learn if 
we are playing a game of hide-and-seek between 
us.” 


CONFISCATION- OF MILITARY STORES. 55 

‘‘ Perhaps we are — ” began Becket, when a cry 
from Cameron startled all three. 

'‘Those others you spoke about are coming up ! ” 
yelled the horseman, " Don’t believe what that 
youngster has to say. He is trying to catch us 
in a trap ! ” 

Becket turned swiftly. Cameron was right. Hen, 
Mr. Winthrop, and Dick were coming up on a run, 
the Morses’ hired man well in advance. As Hen 
came closer he raised his musket. 

" Hold on thar ! ” he called out. “ Hold on, or 
ye are all dead men ! ” 

"To the infernal regions with them,” muttered 
Becket, between his shut teeth. " Boy, you shall 
pay dearly for your ruse ! ” and raising his pistol, 
he pointed it at Roger, who had now leaped for 
the shelter of some trees lining the roadside. 

The Englishman snapped the flint-lock of his 
weapon and a loud report followed. But the aim 
was poor, the bullet merely clipping through the 
tree branch over Roger’s head. Scarcely had the 
report died away than Hen fired, and Becket was 
seen to clap his hand to his left ear. 

" I am shot ! Forward ! ” he groaned, and started 
up his horse with a mad leap. Soon the three 
were galloping down the roadway in a bunch. 

. " Are ye hit, Roger .? ” came from Hen, as he 
proceeded to reload. 

" I am not,” was the answer, and then Roger 


56 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

discharged his musket a second time, but now 
with the muzzle pointed at the trio disappearing 
in a cloud of dust. Mr. Winthrop and Dick also 
fired, and one of the horsemen was seen to throw 
up his arms and fall. A second later the horse of 
a second rider went down, pitching the man in the 
saddle over his head. 

One of ’em is goin’ tew git away, ef he kin ! ” 
shouted Hen. “ Somebuddy plug him ! ” But all 
of the muskets were empty, and before any could 
be reloaded the rider dashed out of sight around a 
bend in the road. The man was Capt. Henry 
Becket, he who had been shot through the ear. 
It was destined to be a long while before Roger 
should see this man again, and then under most 
trying circumstances. 

Rushing forward, it was found that Cameron 
was seriously wounded in the side and had fainted. 
Maxwell had suffered a cut on the head when 
thrown from his steed, and sat on the grass much 
confused. 

“ Do you surrender .? ” demanded Mr. Winthrop, 
pointing his empty gun. 

“I — I do,” came with a groan. “ Please don’t 
shoot ! ” And Maxwell held up both hands in 
token of submission. 

His pistol lay in the dust of the road, and Roger 
picked it up. While the youth relieved Maxwell 
of his other weapon, a long dagger, Mr. Winthrop, 


CONFISCATION OF MILITARY STORES. $7 

Hen, and Dick turned to aid Cameron. The wound 
was dressed and bound up as well as the means at 
hand permitted, and then three of the party, with 
Maxwell, carried the man to the nearest farm- 
house. An hour later a doctor came to take 
charge of the case, and he had Cameron removed 
to the hospital at West Cambridge, where a 
number of the redcoats who had been wounded 
in the battles of Lexington and Concord still 
rested. 

“And what do you intend to do with me.?” 
asked Maxwell, anxiously, and when told he would 
be turned over to the proper authorities as a pris- 
oner of war he begged earnestly for his liberty, and 
even attempted to bribe Roger to set him free. 
But his proffers did not avail, and he was marched 
away, to be exchanged, three months later, for a 
minute man whom the British held. 

Before they separated Roger tried to gain some 
information from Maxwell concerning the Brascoes, 
but failed utterly. “ I don’t know much, and what 
I do know I’ll keep to myself,” said the prisoner ; 
and there the matter rested. 

As soon as the wounded man and Maxwell were 
disposed of, several of the party returned to Uriah 
Bedwell’s barn and removed the six iron-bound 
boxes from their hiding-place under the floor. A 
strong wagon was procured, and the boxes were 
placed in this and taken to the Morse homestead. 


58 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

The muskets, guns, and ammunition were sadly 
needed by the minute men, and the distribution 
which occurred the next day was one long Ho be 
remembered. The keg of powder was also brought 
from the old stone house, but, by the advice of 
Hen, the contents were divided between the 
Darlys and the Morses. “You’ve given the 
public enough,” said the long-headed Vermonter. 
“Keep this little, — it may prove mighty useful 
before this difficulty comes to an end.” 

Josiah Briarley was astonished to learn that 
the plot to remove Uriah Bedwell’s belongings 
to Boston had been so neatly frustrated. At 
first there were threats to make the semi-Tory 
suffer dearly for his part in the transaction, but as 
yet matters, military and otherwise, were in a very 
unsettled state, and in the end Briarley moved into 
the city, taking with him his household goods, his 
family, and Bed well’s silver-plate. But not so much 
as an old-fashioned pistol was allowed to pass the 
American guards at Boston Neck, nor a grain of 
powder or a single leaden bullet. All of such' 
things were confiscated on sight, since the British 
were doing the same upon their side. 

“And now for that expedition to Hog and 
Noddle’s Islands,” said Dick Winthrop, the day 
after the confiscated goods had been distributed. 
“ I am awfully glad you are going along.” He 
was addressing both Roger and Paul. “ Mr. Small 


CONFISCATION OF MILITARY STORES. 59 


is going, and Ben, too, so there will be at least 
three or four minute boys along.” 

‘‘And how many men will go.?” questioned 
Roger. 

“ I don’t know yet. That is to be decided when 
we get to Chelsea. You know the expedition is 
to start from there,” returned Dick. 

This was on Wednesday. On Thursday the 
party left Lexington, to meet the party from 
Chelsea on the day following, for the expedition 
to the islands had been planned for Saturday, May 
the twenty-seventh. 

“Take good care of yourself, Roger,” said Mrs. 
Morse, half tearfully, as she strained him to her 
breast on parting. “ Remember, now your father 
is dead, you and Dorothy are all that are left to 
me.” 

“ Don’t fear for me, mother,” he answered. 
Then he kissed his parent and Dorothy, and 
shook hands with Hen, who wanted to go, but 
had been told to remain behind. The hired man’s 
knee was very stiff from the run to Uriah Bed- 
well’s barn with Paul.. In another moment Roger 
had joined his companions on Lexington Green ; 
and the expedition to Hog and Noddle’s Islands 
was begun. 


CHAPTER VI. 

HOW THE SIEGE OF BOSTON WAS BEGUN. 

While Roger and his several friends are 
journeying from Lexington to Chelsea, let us 
look back for a brief period and see what had 
occurred in and around Boston since that memo- 
rable day, April 19, 1775, when, returning after 
an unsuccessful raid upon Lexington and Concord, 
the British troops, under Lord Percy and Colonel 
Smith, had been driven for miles along the country 
roads and over Charlestown Neck into Charlestown 
itself, where they finally rested under the protec- 
tion of the British warships in the harbour ; while 
the gallant minute men took their stand, under 
General Heath, upon Charlestown Common, as 
the meadow at the upper end of the Neck was 
then called, and what is now known as Somerville. 

When the British regulars left Boston in the 
morning, Charlestown was in a state of intense 
excitement, and this feeling grew as the news of 
the slaughter at Lexington and Concord came in. 
The schools were dismissed, stores were closed, 

60 


THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 


6l 


public buildings locked up, and many folks pre- 
pared to leave their homes. To add to the horror 
of the hour, it was learned that the Cambridge 
Bridge was down, so the redcoats would certainly 
come in by way of Charlestown Neck. Soon the 
firing was heard, and something little short of a 
panic followed, in which one schoolboy, Edward 
Barber, anxious to see what was taking place, was 
fatally shot. 

“The British are killing off all the women and 
children ! ” was a cry which was taken up on 
every side, and now, unable to stand it any longer, 
many inhabitants took to the meadows leading to 
Medford and other places, while others ran for the 
clay-pits behind Bunker and Breed’s Hills, there 
to go into hiding until morning. But the cry of 
a massacre was untrue, for the British molested no 
one saving those who took up arms against them. 
As soon as they could do so, they placed a strong 
guard at the Neck, and during the night nothing 
worth mentioning occurred. The next day the 
British, under General Bigot, returned to their 
quarters. 

The tocsin of war had now fairly sounded, and 
from every town, village, and hamlet the patriots 
poured forth to fight the battle for liberty and 
independence. The Committee of Safety, as it 
was termed, issued a circular letter calling out the 
militia and urging the enlistment of men to form 


62 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

an army. “ Our all is at stake/’ so ran the appeal. 
“ Death and devastation are the certain conse- 
quences of delay.” This circular was followed by 
a second, and minute men and trained companies 
marched hotfoot to pen the British within Bos- 
ton, or to do them mortal battle should they dare 
to come out again. 

Because of their proximity, the Massachusetts 
troops were first on the scene, but others were 
quick to follow. Down in Connecticut old Israel 
Putnam was ploughing his field when news reached 
him of the outbreak at Lexington. Without an 
instant’s delay he sped off on horseback to the 
principal towns of his State to spread the tidings 
and bring out all who were willing to shoulder a 
musket in the righteous cause. “ Follow me to 
Cambridge as fast as you can,” were his words, 
and he set off on a gallop for that town, and 
arrived there two days after the British retreat to 
Charlestown, having covered a hundred miles on 
one horse in eighteen hours ! 

And while the troops from Connecticut were 
thus getting together, word had been sent up into 
New Hampshire, and soon the militia came pour- 
ing down to Haverhill P^erry, and from thence made 
their way by the Andover route to Cambridge. 
Little Rhode Island was also heard from, and her 
troops came in under the generalship of that well- 
known fighter, f^athaniel Greene. From two thou- 


THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 63 

sand the army gradually rose to sixteen thousand 
men. 

Yet this body was an army only in name, from 
a military standpoint. Nine men out of every ten 
were simple farmers or backwoodsmen, knowing 
little or nothing of military matters outside of 
some slight trainin’ ” secured on the local vil- 
lage green. Uniforms were almost unknown, 
and, what was far worse, less than fifty per cent, 
were properly armed. How scarce powder and 
shot were we have already learned. 

But these patriots had two things in their 
favour. Those who could shoot at all could shoot 
well, and every one of them were used to untold 
hardships and to facing perils such as were new 
to the well-housed and well-fed soldiers of King 
George III., sent over to subdue them. They 
were willing to fight until the last ditch and until 
the last charge of powder was used ; nay, they 
proved, later on, that they could fight even after 
the last ditch was passed and the powder-horn 
had long since been drained. “ They did not 
understand when they were whipped,” so one 
English writer expressed it, — for the simple rea- 
son that they never considered the battle at an 
end so long as victory was not upon their side. 

At first all was confusion among the forming 
army, but gradually, through the efforts of Doctor 
Warren and Generals Ward, Heath, Putnam, and 


64 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

others, the militia and minute men were formed 
into regular companies and regiments, and sent 
to guard Boston Neck, Cambridge, Charlestown 
Neck, Chelsea, and numerous places between 
these points, which lay in a grand semicircle 
around Boston. For several weeks the guards 
at some points were decidedly light, but gradu- 
ally they grew more secure, until Boston was cut 
off entirely from the rest of the world excepting 
by water. 

The state of affairs brought about by this siege 
was a curious one. Here were the patriots, be- 
sieging thousands of their friends, as well as their 
enemies. As Boston was thus cut off, provisions 
became scarce, and soon the town was threatened 
with a famine. Inside of the place it looked every 
day as if there might be a serious riot between 
the citizens and the British soldiery. What to do 
became a serious question. 

The British commander. General Gage, knew 
he could not feed so many long, without the 
public larder giving out, and he also knew that 
a starving man will fight, no matter what the con- 
sequences. So it was decided that all who wished 
to do so could leave their arms and ammunition 
behind, and move out of the town by way of Boston 
Neck, the inhabitants of Charlestown being also 
allowed to depart, under similar conditions, by 
way of Charlestown Neck. At first these fleeing 


THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 


65 


people were allowed to take their household ef- 
fects, but, as conditions grew more and more des- 
perate, this was denied the patriots. In return 
for this favour, those who lived on the outside, and 
were of royal tendencies, as Josiah Briarley, were 
allowed to take their worldly goods, also minus 
arms and ammunition, and enter Boston. 

As the American army, or, perhaps more prop- 
erly, the New England army, settled down to the 
work before it, fortifications were thrown up at 
various points, first in the vicinity of Cambridge, 
and then at the other points being guarded. 
While this was being done, the food question 
was eagerly discussed, and to obtain rations for 
our army, as well as to cut off the British, it was 
decided to bring within the American lines all of 
the hogs, sheep, and cattle, as well as the hay, to 
be found on the various islands in the harbour. 

The people in Boston were also considering this 
subject, but a large fire on the seventeenth of 
May put the plan out of their heads for the 
time being. However, on the twenty-first of that 
month, an armed schooner and two sloops left the 
town for Grape Island, the intention being to bring 
away the stray cattle, and a large quantity of hay, 
the latter to be used for the British cavalry horses. 

The expedition moved to the island with all 
possible caution, but, in the midst of their labours, 
the British troops were discovered at the cocks of 


66 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

hay by several men of Weymouth, who raised the 
alarm by ringing the bells and firing muskets. 
Soon all the men of that village, and of Hingham 
and Braintree, gathered on the shore, and, as 
speedily as the flood-tide permitted, a sloop and 
a lighter were floated, and filled with minute men, 
who set sail for the island. On the sloop was 
one of the sons of Mr. Adams, then at the head 
of the provisional government of Massachusetts, 
and he was the first man ashore. A fight at long 
range followed, and the British fled as fast as they 
could for their ships, and returned to Boston. 
The minute men burnt up all the hay in sight, 
also a large barn, and brought as many of the 
cattle as could be rounded up to Weymouth. 

The affair on Grape Island had occurred on 
Sunday. Two days later Mr. Winthrop got word 
of it, and also that the Americans intended on the 
following Saturday to go to Hog and Noddle’s 
Islands, to bring off whatever might be found 
there. On one of the islands were pastured 
twelve head of cattle which the farmer had pur- 
chased at a round price only the fall previous. 
“ I don’t want to lose them,” he told his wife, and 
immediately arranged to join the expedition, satis- 
fied that he could easily prove his own property 
after the raid was finished. Of course Dick could 
not be left behind, and how Roger and the oth^r 
minute boys joined in has already been related. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE EXPEDITION TO HOG AND NODDLE’s ISLANDS. 

“ Do you look for any opposition at the islands ? ” 
questioned Roger of Mr. Winthrop, as the entire 
party journeyed forward on its way to Chelsea. 

Certainly there will be opposition if the British 
discover what we are up to,” was the answer. 
‘‘ We will, however, move to the islands and back 
as quickly as possible.” 

At this period. Hog and Noddle’s Islands, since 
much filled in and otherwise altered, and now 
known as East Boston, were little more than 
immense pastures and orchards, separated from 
the mainland at Chelsea by a muddy channel 
which, at low tide, was less than three feet deep. 
A ferry ran to the islands, and shallow boats made 
frequent visits for the benefit of the few people 
living on Noddle’s Island Hill and the vicinity. 

After crossing the Medford, or Mystic, River, 
the party moved directly for Chelsea, stopping on 
Friday night at the farmhouse of a friend, named 
Grossbeak. This man was an under officer among 
the minute men of Chelsea, although, as a plain 
67 


68 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 


farmer, he disdained the title of lieutenant, which 
had been conferred upon him. He was to lead 
one of the detachments to the islands, and, having 
cattle of his own there, mixed up with the heads 
belonging to Mr. Winthrop and a dozen others, 
he was, of course, more than ordinarily inter- 
ested. 

“We’ll go over between ten and eleven o’clock 
in the morning,” he said. “ I have a flatboat, and 
so has Caleb Dickson, and we have a sloop and 
any number of small boats, besides. I don’t know 
how many will go over, all told, but I reckon there 
will be enough to bring away everything of value, 
and give the redcoats a good shaking-up in the 
bargain, if they show themselves.” 

“ I don’t want any fighting,” said Mr. Winthrop, 
“but I’m going to have my cattle, cost what it 
may.” 

“ Parsons tells me that one of the British men- 
of-war has moved up pretty close to Noddle’s 
Island,” went on Grossbeak. “We’ll have to 
keep an eye on that ship.” 

At nine o’clock, after a hearty breakfast of corn 
cakes and bacon, served by Mrs. Grossbeak and 
her four daughters, the party set off for the Chel- 
sea flats. It was a clear, warm day. All wore 
their boots, for they knew they would have to 
wade through considerable mud and water. Each 
man and boy of the party, which numbered ten. 


THE EXPEDITION. 69 

under Grossbeak, was, of course, armed, and car- 
ried from six to sixteen rounds of ammunition. 
Six rounds of powder and ball may not seem many 
to some of my young readers, who are accustomed 
to going into the woods and blazing away, regard- 
less of the waste ; but they must remember that, in 
the days gone by, these things were not so plenti- 
ful, and a hunter had to make the best of what 
he possessed. Grossbeak himself carried but six 
rounds, but as he had on more than one occasion 
gone into the woods with but four rounds, and 
brought down two deer, and once a bear and a 
deer, it could well be said that this crack shot 
had all that was necessary. 

The flatboat which the lieutenant possessed 
was amply large to hold the ten who entered it, 
and, once on board, two of the men seized their 
poles and quickly sent the craft over the water 
in the direction of Noddle’s Island, the pasture 
farthest from the mainland. It was felt by all 
that, once the cattle and other live stock were 
driven from Noddle’s Island to Hog Island, the 
rest would be easy, as the enemy would scarcely 
dare to venture close to the Chelsea shore. 

The sloop previously mentioned held on board 
sixteen men and boys, and this party was the first 
to land on the farthest island, although Gross- 
beak’s crowd was not far behind. Once on land, all 
set off to round up all the cattle and sheep in sight. 


JO THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

It was a work with which everybody was familiar, 
and it progressed rapidly. Naturally Roger, Dick, 
and Paul kept together, and soon they became 
separated from their older companions, as the 
work of driving in the live stock went on. 

“There is one of our cows,” cried Dick, pres- 
ently, as he pointed to a peculiarly marked beast. 
“ Isn’t she a beauty ? I know mother and Nellie 
will think a sight of her, when we drive her in. 
Nellie loves a good-looking cow.” 

“ I like a good-looking cow myself,” returned 
Roger, feeling he must somehow second the 
choice of the girl who filled so large a portion 
of his thoughts. “There are four more, Dick, 
on the other side of the ditch.” 

“And there is one behind the patch of brush,” 
added Paul. “ Hi, hi ! cush, cush ! ” he called 
out, as the cows grew alarmed, and started for 
the southwest end of the island. 

“ Let us round them up from the left, that will 
be the easiest way,” said Roger, and they set off 
as rapidly as the treacherous state of the pasture 
land permitted. 

The work was well in hand, when suddenly 
there came a shot from the hill near the centre 
of the island. 

“ What does that mean .? ” ejaculated Paul. 

“ It’s a signal,” answered Dick. “ The red- 
coats must have discovered us ! ” 


THE EXPEDITION. 


71 


Let us run down to the shore and make sure,” 
burst out Roger. 

They had just started to run when the low 
boom of a swivel-gun came from over the waters 
of the harbour. 

“ That’s from a man-of-war ! ” said Dick. “ No 
use of going farther. The quicker we get back 
to Hog Island the better ! ” 

Boys, boys ! take care of yourselves, the red- 
coats have discovered us ! ” came from a dis- 
tance. 

“ What about the cattle } ” called back Dick. 

“ We must let them go, or kill them.” 

Kill our cows ! Not much ; I’m going to save 
them if I can ! ” returned Dick, stoutly. 

And I’ll help you,” said Roger. “The enemy 
must be some distance off as yet, and if we go 
around the hill we’ll be out of the range of that 
cannon on the ship.” 

As rapidly as it could be accomplished, six of 
the cows belonging to Mr. Winthrop were rounded 
up. The others could not be found. “ I think 
they must be on the upper end of the island,” 
said Dick. “They once belonged to John Race, 
and his cattle are up there. Come on ! ” and 
away he went, with Roger on one side, and Paul 
on the other, driving the beasts before them at 
the top of the animals’ speed. 

“Aren’t you fellows coming back.?” came the 


72 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

cry, a few minutes later, and Ben Small, who had 
gone off with his father, appeared. 

“To be sure we are coming, Ben, but we are 
going to bring these cows,” answered Roger. 
“ Have you seen anything of the enemy } ” 

“Father has his marine glass, and he saw them. 
They are coming over in a schooner and a sloop.” 

“ How many of them } ” 

“Father counted two boat -loads, about forty or 
fifty. He thinks they are marines from one of 
the war-ships,” continued Ben. 

“ If that is so we’ll have a hot time of it pres- 
ently,” said Dick, with a shake of his head. 

“ Never mind, Dick, we fought at Lexington 
and Concord, and we can fight again,” said 
Roger. 

“ Hurrah, that’s the talk ! ” came from Paul 
Darly. “ Down with the redcoats, say I ! ” 

Several shots rang out, some from the water,' 
and an equal number from the minute men on 
the island. The alarm was now general, and as the 
British marines drew closer and closer it soon 
became apparent that to drive off all the sheep 
and cattle to Hog Island would be impossible, 
while to take away the salt hay was entirely out 
of the question. 

“ If we can’t have them, the redcoats sha’n’t 
have them, either ! ” was the cry, and shortly after 
torches were set to the cocks of hay, and a barn 


THE EXPEDITION 


73 


that was full, and they were burnt to the ground. 
An old farmhouse was likewise burnt, and a good 
many cows and some horses were butchered, the 
carcasses of the cows being thrown into the flames, 
that the British might not carry them off for 
provender. 

All this, of course, took time, and meanwhile 
the boys drove the six Winthrop cows well toward 
Hog Island. Here they met Mr. Winthrop and 
Mr. Small, and learned that four of the other 
cows were likewise safe. “ The other two, I 
reckon, I can give up as lost,” said Dick’s parent. 

As rapidly as possible the British schooner and 
the sloop landed their marines, forty in number, 
and these naval soldiers came on, firing as they 
ran. Soon some of the other men-of-war lying 
in the harbour sent out men, and about noon 
there was quite a detachment of the British on 
Noddle’s Island, and around it. 

“ They are going to chase us into Chelsea ! ” 
was the cry of the minute men. 

We’ll see if they do ! ” came from Grossbeak, 
and as quickly as it could be done he organised 
the cattle-drivers into several detachments, one of 
which was posted close to the west shore, another 
by the road, and the third in a ditch near the 
point for which one of the enemy’s small boats 
was heading. 

The boys were with the detachment in- the 


74 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

ditch, and waited with thumping hearts for the 
coming of the enemy. 

A shot signalled their approach, coming from 
the boat, and singing through the air directly over 
Ben Small’s head. Gosh ! but that was close ! ” 
muttered the minute boy, and without stopping to 
think twice he Ifred in return, and saw one of the 
rowers let fall his oar. 

A full volley from the small craft answered 
Ben’s shot, but nobody in the ditch was hit. 
The boat was still some distance away, Ben 
having reached his mark only by chance. Soon, 
however, the craft came so close that each indi- 
vidual on board could be plainly distinguished. 

“ Now for it ! ” cried Roger, in a low voice, and 
all in the ditch, saving Ben, who had not yet 
reloaded, fired together. Two of the marines 
went down, and one of them slipped overboard, 
but his comrades hauled him back. Whether any 
of the shots had proved fatal those in hiding 
could not tell. 

It had not been expected that the ditch was to 
be held permanently, and as the marines advanced, 
the minute men and the boys fell back from one 
point to another, always keeping out of sight as 
much as possible behind meadow grass, bushes, 
and trees. Yet the force of the enemy was con- 
stantly growing, and presently a rush was made, 
in which the worthy Grossbeak received an ugly 


THE EXPEDITION. 


75 


wound in the head that put him in bed for four 
months afterward. Mr. Winthrop was also hit in 
the leg, but the wound was of small consequence, 
and did not stop him from taking part in the 
remainder of the battle. 

So far the boys had kept pretty well together, 
but now, as they sped on toward the narrowest 
part of the channel between the two islands, 
Roger and Dick sped in one direction, and Paul 
and Ben in another. 

“ I must say I am getting hot ! ” exclaimed 
Dick, as he came to a halt under the shade of a 
maple-tree. I didn’t expect quite such a run as 
this.” 

“ Nor I,” returned Roger, bending down to get 
a drink from a spring near the tree. Bah ! that 
water is half salt,” he exclaimed, a second later. 

Now I’ll be more thirsty than ever.” 

“ There is a good spring up on the hill, Roger. 
But I don’t know as we dare venture that far. 
Yet I don’t see any marines just now.” 

“ They have halted near the ditch, Dick, I 
can see two heads over the brush. After such a 
warm reception they’ll be cautious as to how they 
advance.” 

The two lads decided to mount the little hill to 
the spring, and go down on the other side. They 
moved from tree to tree, and bush to bush, hav- 
ing no desire to expose themselves for targets, 


76 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

even at such a distance as now divided them from 
the redcoats. 

The spring gained, another disappointment 
awaited Roger. The stones around the place 
had been thrown down, and a dead sheep lay in 
the bubbling water. “They might have let this 
be,” grumbled the lad. “ But I suppose Gross- 
beak didn’t want to leave any accommodations for 
those Britishers. Come,” and on they went again. 

The eastern slope of Noddle’s Island was in 
sight, and they were congratulating themselves 
that no enemy had sprung up to bar their prog- 
ress, when Roger, on looking behind, saw Ben 
Small running toward them as rapidly as his 
short legs would carry him. 

“ Roger ! Dick ! stop ! ” screamed the young 
fellow. “ Stop, I say ! ” and as he came closer 
the others saw that he had a deep scratch on 
his left cheek, from which the blood was flowing 
freely. 

“What is it, Ben.?” questioned Roger, quickly. 
“ Did the redcoats do that .? ” 

“Yes — no — I can’t say. They collared me, 
and I broke away after kicking one of ’em in the 
ribs ! ” came from Ben, pantingly. “ But poor Paul 
is a prisoner still ! ” 

“A prisoner!” burst from Roger and Dick, 
simultaneously. 

“Yes, a prisoner, and two marines have been 


THE EXPEDITION. 


77 


detailed to march him off to one of the small 
boats.” 

“ Gracious, this is too bad, Ben ! ” said Roger. 

Can’t we rescue him ? ” put in Dick. “ Only 
two marines, did you say, Ben .? ” 

“ Yes, two, but they are big and strong fellows, 
I can tell you that. I can’t understand yet how 
I got away. They have my musket and my 
powder-horn.” 

“ Are the two men alone I mean, have the 
rest of the party left them entirely ? ” went on 
Roger. 

“Yes, they’re alone. But — ” 

“Then let us go after them, Dick. We can’t 
leave Paul to his fate without making some effort 
to save him.” 

“ It’s awfully risky, Roger — ” 

“ Then if you don’t want to go — ” 

“ I didn’t say that. Yes, I’ll go, but we must 
be cautious.” Dick turned to Ben. “ Do you 
care to go back and show us the way } ” 

“ I would if I had a gun or something.” 

“ Here is a pistol father loaned me. But you 
must be careful of it, Ben, for it’s a fine French 
weapon, as you can see. Better wash your face in 
yonder pool, and there is a spider’s web you can 
put over the scratch to stop the flow of blood.” 

“We don’t want to lose time,” said Roger, 
while Ben was washing, with Dick getting the 


78 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

spider-web, which hung over some brush. “ Those 
marines may put off in the boat, and then the jig 
will be up.” 

“ No ; the orders were to hold us at the boats 
until the other marines came back,” returned Ben. 
“I’ll be ready in a minute more,” and he was, 
the thick web stopping the flow of blood almost 
instantly. 

And then, to save their friend, the boys began 
as daring an undertaking as they had experienced 
since the memorable encounter at the Morse milk- 
house on the day of the battle of Lexington. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE ENCOUNTER AT THE SPRING. 

The boat to which the two British marines had 
taken Paul Darly lay in a little cove on the west 
shore of Noddle’s Island, not far from where there 
was a small clump of elm-trees. 

The boy’s hands had been bound behind him 
and his musket taken from him. On the way to 
the boat one of the marines, to make him move 
the faster, had kicked him in the right leg, and 
this hurt considerably. 

‘Ot wasn’t fair to kick me so,” said Paul, as he 
dropped on one of the seats of the boat. As a 
prisoner of war I — ” 

You hold your tongue ! ” interrupted the larg- 
est and heaviest of the marines. “ We don’t take 
back talk from a rebel, especially from a boy.” 

“ What are you going to do with me ? ” 

“ Take you to the ship, and then hand you over 
to General Gage’s officers in Boston.” 

At this announcement Paul gave a shiver. He 
had heard how badly American prisoners in Bos- 
79 


So THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

ton were faring, and had no desire to join the 
number of unfortunates. 

The youth sat in the middle of the boat, with 
one marine behind him and the other in front. 
The fellows were in a thoroughly bad humour, for 
they knew they would be severely reprimanded 
for having allowed Ben to escape. 

“ It was your fault, Munson, that the other lad 
got away,” said the big marine, at length. 

“ And I say it was yours, Biggs,” was the angry 
response. You had hold of him.” 

‘'Yes, but why didn’t you run after him as I 
told you } ” 

“ I had hold of this lad.” 

“You should have run. It’s a fine story we 
will have to tell to Captain Clancy, — that two 
men couldn’t hold two boys.” 

So the talk ran on for fully ten minutes, until it 
looked to Paul as if the two marines would get 
into a pitched battle, as each was already shaking 
his fist in the other’s face. But finally Biggs 
cooled down, and to appease his larger comrade 
offered him a drink from a pint flask which he 
carried. The treat made the two as much of 
friends as ever. 

“Let it go,” said Biggs. “I’ll tell the captain 
a clever tale that will smooth it all over. We had 
to fight four rebels, remember,” and he winked 
suggestively. 


THE ENCOUNTER AT THE SPRING. 8 


Yes, we had to fight four rebels, and all well 
armed,” said Munson, and nodded that he under- 
stood perfectly. 

“ And what if I tell the truth ? ” questioned 
Paul, with more boldness than prudence. At once 
Biggs gave him a heavy slap on the ear. 

“ You’ll keep your tongue between your teeth, 
lad,” he growled. “ If you don’t — ” He ended 
with a fierce look and a shake of his brawny fist ; 
and then Paul said no more. 

The drink of fiery liquor had made Biggs 
thirsty, and as there was no more in the flask 
he began to cast around for a drink of water. 
‘‘ Munson, did you notice if there was a spring 
anywhere around ” he asked. 

“There is a spring up behind yonder trees,” 
was the answer. “ If you go up, fill the flask,” 
and he handed over the article in question. 

Leaving Munson on sole guard at the boat, 
Biggs sauntered slowly off, his gun slung over his 
shoulder, and the flask in his right hand. For 
some time not a sound had come to him of any 
fighting, and he surmised that friends and enemies 
were half a mile or more away. 

“ I trust the boys whip the rebels thoroughly,” 
he mused, as he moved along. “ If they do Cap- 
tain Clancy will be in fine humour, and he’ll let 
the escape of that boy go by unnoticed. But if 
they don’t come back successful, why then I fancy 


82 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

ril have warm work ahead to keep out of the brig 
for neglect of duty.” 

The trees gained, he began a diligent search 
for the spring. He had moved along for a hun- 
dred feet when he fancied he heard a strange 
noise from his left. Who’s there 1 ” he de- 
manded, coming to a halt and catching hold of 
his musket. 

No answer to his question was vouchsafed, and, 
after waiting for fully a minute in breathless at- 
tention, he concluded that he had been mistaken. 
“ Pshaw ! I must be getting nervous ! ” he mut- 
tered. I wish I had a mug of flip to steady 
me ! But, heigh-ho, flip is not to be had, nor 
brandy, nor even hard cider, so for once water 
must do, — if the confounded spring can be un- 
covered.” 

The big marine advanced ten yards farther, and 
now came to the spring, from which flowed a tiny 
stream of the coldest and purest water to be im- 
agined. Throwing his musket down, so that it 
might not slip forward and get wet, he bent down 
for a drink. It was certainly more refreshing 
than the liquor had been, and he took a deep 
draught. He had just finished, when a shadow in 
the rear startled him. 

“ What is th — ” he began, turning about to 
find himself confronted by three boys, including 
the one that had broken away from him. 


THE ENCOUNTER AT THE SPRING. 83 

Silence, if you value your life ! ” came from 
Roger, who had been watching the boat for several 
minutes, and had mapped out a plan of action for 
his chums. 

“ But what does this — this mean } ” stammered 
Biggs, falling back as Roger’s musket was pointed 
full at his face. His own gun was gone, and he 
now noticed that Ben had it. 

“ Silence, I say,” repeated Roger. If you 
make the least outcry your life will not be worth 
a shilling.” 

“ So this is your lay,” said the marine, bitterly, 
turning to Ben. “ I wish the captain had shot 
you instead of making you a prisoner ! ” 

“Perhaps we had better shoot you instead of 
making you a prisoner,” replied Ben, grimly, and 
he, too, pointed his musket, or rather the marine’s 
weapon, at Biggs’s head. Dick’s weapon was like- 
wise raised, and the three muzzles certainly made 
a determined showing. 

“ For the sake of Heaven, don’t shoot ! Please 
don’t shoot ! ” burst from the marine. “I — I 
surrender, if that is what you want. Put the guns 
down ; they might go off accidentally.” 

“ If you surrender drop that powder-flask, and 
clasp your hands together behind you,” com- 
manded Roger. 

“ Yes, but — ” 

“ Do not ask questions but do as I ordered,” 


84 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

went on the boy, coldly, and without lowering the 
barrel of his musket an inch. 

With a rattle the flask struck the stones about 4 
the spring, and Biggs placed his hands as he had 
been commanded. His face was twitching ner- 
vously, and it was easy to see that he felt himself 
to be in a bad situation. Once a wild thought 
entered his head to make a dash for liberty, as 
Ben had done, but he was not brave enough to 
take the risk. 

“Now, Ben, bind, his hands behind him with 
the rope I gave you,” said Roger. “ Mind you 
bind them so he cannot slip them apart.” 

The rope in question was one the boys had 
brought along for possible use on a refractory 
cow. Soon Ben announced his job complete, 
after which Biggs was marched away from the 
spring to where the trees were thick. Here he 
was made to back up against a sturdy walnut, 
and was bound fast. 

“Now listen,” went on Roger. “We are going 
to leave you for awhile. If you keep silent all 
shall go well with you, but if you dare to cry out, 
we’ll come back and finish you.” 

“ Are you going to rescue that other lad ? ” 

“ Do not ask any questions ; but remember 
what I told you,” returned the leader of the min- 
ute boys ; and then he and his two chums moved 
off. 


THE ENCOUNTER AT THE SPRING. 85 

He’ll keep mum enough,” said Dick, when 
they were out of hearing. For a fellow that 
must weigh two hundred pounds, he’s the biggest 
calf I ever met.” 

Here is your pistol, Dick,” said Ben. “ I have 
his musket, and it’s a first-class affair, by its ap- 
pearance. Now what’s to do, Roger .? ” 

“ Don’t show yourselves until I have looked 
over the ground,” was the answer. 

The edge of the wood was gained, and all 
looked across the stretch of meadow to where 
the boat lay in the cove. They could readily 
see Paul with his hands tied behind him, and 
Munson, who was looking in the direction of the 
spring. 

We might as well make a dash,” began Dick, 
when Roger pulled him back. 

“Wait just a moment,” whispered the latter. 
“ See, the marine has turned, and is gazing out 
over the water.” He leaped up and waved his 
musket. “ If only I can signal to Paul that we 
are watching for a chance to get to him ! ” 

He continued to wave his weapon, and Dick 
and Sam did the same with their muskets. Sud- 
denly Paul caught sight of them, and leaped up. 
“ He sees us ! ” cried Dick. “ Oh, gracious, look 
at that ! Paul has tipped the marine into the 
water! Come on, boys, now is our chance!” 
And he set off on a run. 


86 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 


The report was true ; Paul had caught sight of 
his chums, and as quick as a flash understood the 
meaning of their unexpected appearance. The 
chance to get clear of Munson had been too good 
to be lost, and one sharp shove, accompanied by 
a lurch of the rowboat, had done the trick. Mun- 
son went down in less than three feet of the 
briny element, and came up minus his head-cov- 
ering, and with his eyes and nose plastered with 
black mud. 

‘‘You villain ! ” he spluttered. “ I’ll — I’ll kill 
you for that ! Whow ! what a mess ! ” and he 
started in to clean out his eyes as he waded 
ashore. 

As the marine went overboard, Paul leaped for 
land, and, reaching it, set off on a dead run for 
his friends, who as quickly headed in his direction. 

“ Paul, are you all jight ? ” were Roger’s first 
words, when they came together. 

“ I am. Unloosen my hands,” was the answer, 
and the minute boy was quickly liberated. “ Oh, 
how glad I am that you came ! ” 

“We must get away as fast as possible,” put in 
Dick. “ All of our men are moving back to Hog 
Island. If we are not sharp we’ll be cut off from 
them.” 

“Yes, we must lose no time,” said Roger. 
“ Paul, do you think you can run ” he added, as 
he noticed how the boy was limping. 



“ ‘ COME ON, BOYS ; 


NOW IS OUR CHANCE 



( 



THE ENCOUNTER AT THE SPRING. 89 

“ I can’t run very fast, — I got an awful kick,” 
was the answer. “You go ahead and I’ll follow.” 

“ No, we must keep together. Down, all of 
you, down ! ” 

All fell to the ground, just as a musket-shot 
rang out. Munson had secured his weapon and 
fired it, but the leaden messenger passed over 
their heads. 

“ I’ll give you one for that,” cried Roger, and 
fired in return. The marine was struck in the 
arm, and his weapon fell from his grasp. 

The echo of Roger’s musket had scarcely died 
away, when there came to their ears a call from the 
hill upon which the spring was located. The call 
was answered from several points in the wood, 
and a party of a dozen redcoats appeared. It took 
them but a moment to sight the boys, and then 
they bore down upon our young friends. 

“We are trapped ! ” groaned Ben, who was the 
first to see the enemy. 

“ Trapped ” queried Dick. 

“Yes, trapped. Lookahead.” 

Roger and the others looked, and their faces 
fell. 

“We can never get through that line alive,” 
murmured Paul. “ We are in for it now for 
certain ! ” 

“Don’t give up yet,” said Roger, who was 
reloading with all possible speed. “ Perhaps we 


go THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 


can escape by running along the shore, if we 
hurry.” He looked at Paul. Paul, can’t you 
run at all } ” 

‘‘Not very far. But go ahead, don’t mind me,” 
was the truly brave response. 

“We won’t leave you,” came from all of the 
others in a breath. 

“ Let us stand and fight, if we must,” added 
Dick. 

“ That won’t do, — with only four against a 
dozen or more,” interrupted Roger. “ I have 
another idea, boys. Let us take to the boat and 
row around to Hog Island. Of course we’ll run 
the risk of a shot from yonder man-of-war, but 
that’s better than facing the British on this 
island.’.’ 

“ But that marine ” began Dick. 

“We’ll take care of him in short order,” was 
the confident reply. “ Come ahead ! ” 

And, turning, the little party of minute boys ran 
for the cove, Roger, Dick, and Ben in advance, 
and Paul bringing up in the rear as rapidly as his 
sore limb permitted. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE MAN BEHIND THE DRIFTWOOD. 

When Roger spoke about taking care of Mun- 
son he remembered that the fellow had fallen 
overboard, and that, in all likelihood, the marine’s 
ammunition had become wet. This was the 
truth. 

As they raced toward the boat, Roger and Dick 
pointed their muskets at the marine’s head. “ Off 
with you ! ” yelled Dick, and fired. The bullet 
merely cut the air. Then Munson aimed his 
weapon at Dick, but the hammer hit the flint 
without a report following, and he threw the 
musket away in a rage. A second later he was 
running for the woods, where he now beheld his 
own party on the return to the boat. 

<‘Why don’t you fire at him.?” cried Dick, im- 
patiently. 

He is running ; let him go,” was Roger’s 
calm return. “ I may be sore pressed for this 
round of ammunition before this day is over. 
Hark ! ” 

They listened and heard Biggs yelling for some 
91 


92 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

one to come and release him. “ I only hope they 
stop to do it,” said Paul, after being told of how 
the big marine had been made a prisoner. See, 
two of the fellows are turning back.” 

“We mustn’t lose a second,” went on Roger, 
as the cove was gained. “ Into the boat with 
you ! ” And as the others followed his directions, 
he ran back and caught up Paul. Soon all four 
were on board of the craft, which was then shoved 
away from the soft meadow bank. 

There were oars a-plenty, a pair for each min- 
ute boy, had they desired so many. But all of 
the lads were more used to plough-handles than 
oars, so they only took one apiece. “ We’ve got 
to make Hog Island somehow,” said Roger. 
“ Down with the oars, and each make a stroke as 
I count,” and he began in measured tone, “ One, 
two, three, four,” and off they went, rather zig- 
zaggy at first, but doing better with every 
stroke. 

It must not be supposed that the British 
marines had stood looking on without doing any- 
thing to stop them. Down they came to the cove 
on a run, several firing as they advanced. But 
the aims were poor and no harm was done, and 
by the time the water’s edge was reached the 
rowboat was two hundred yards off. 

“ Come back, ye rebels, come back ! ” roared 
Captain Clancy, who was in command of the 


THE MAN BEHIND THE DRIFTWOOD. 93 

detachment. “ Come back, or my word for it, all 
of you shall be hung ! ” 

“We’re not coming back, — not just now, any 
way ! ” answered Paul, and, leaping up, he fired 
Ben’s musket at the British officer. The shot 
tore through Captain Clancy’s three-cornered hat, 
and, somewhat alarmed, the British officer fell 
back several paces, at the same time ordering a 
second volley aimed at the courageous lads who 
had thus taken their lives in their hands in order 
to escape. 

The round was quickly forthcoming, but the 
minute boys were on the watch, and the rowboat 
being plenty large enough for the purpose, they 
dropped behind the gunwale just as the order to 
fire rang out. Spit, spat ! several bullets struck 
the boat, but only one passed through, doing no 
damage. 

“ Anybody hurt } ” questioned Roger, and re- 
ceiving a satisfactory response, made an inspection 
of the hole. It was just above the water’s edge, 
so no plugging was needed, and once again they 
started to pull as energetically as before. 

“ We are doing well,” said Roger, fifteen min- 
utes later, when the cove had been left behind, 
and they had turned the western spur of Noddle’s 
Island. “ That detachment is worse off than we, 
for they haven’t any boat in which to return to 
their ship.” 


94 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

“ Don’t crow, for we are not yet out of the 
woods,” answered Paul. See, that man-of-war 
over yonder is beginning to move this way ! ” 

She can’t stand in very far,” put in Ben. 
“ The water shoals rapidly over here. But they 
may give us a shot.” 

They continued to pull, until Hog Island could 
be seen, not over a quarter of a mile ahead. Then 
from the man-of-war came the booming of a 
cannon, and the water in front of the rowboat 
spurted up like a geyser. 

“ They’re training their guns on us, lads ! ” 
ejaculated Paul. ‘^That was rather a close shave.” 

“A miss is as good as a mile, Paul,” rejoined 
Roger, as cheerily as he could. “But pull on, 
before they blow us to pieces.” 

“ Oh, I hope we don’t get another shot ! ” cried 
Ben, and it must be confessed that his voice 
trembled just a bit. And he can hardly be 
blamed, for the situation was truly alarming. 

The beach of Hog Island was still fifty yards 
off when another gun roared out. Then came a 
crash as the ball struck the sternrsheets of the 
rowboat, and on the instant all of the boys found 
themselves floundering in the water. “ I can’t 
swim, — I’ll drown ! ” spluttered Paul, and then 
he stood up rather sheepishly, for the water 
proved to be less than three feet deep. Gather- 
ering up their muskets and other effects, they 


THE MAN BEHIND THE DRIFTWOOD. 95 

went splashing through the water and mud to the 
shore, Roger helping Paul along, and Dick carry- 
ing the weapons of the pair. The rowboat, with 
its stern completely shattered, was allowed to 
drift off at the mercy of the tide. 

“ Thank God, we are out of that ! ” said Roger, 
when they had gained the shelter of some trees, 
and the other boys said amen. It was not likely 
that they would ever forget that voyage. “ If 
that last shot had come two feet nearer, — ” shud- 
dered Dick, and it was not necessary to finish, for 
all understood him only too well. 

“ Where in the world have you boys been } ” 
The cry came from their rear, and turning, they 
found themselves confronted by Mr. Winthrop 
and Mr. Small. 

“We just escaped from Noddle’s Island in a 
boat,” said Dick. And in a few words he gave 
the particulars. “ I’m afraid I didn’t save those 
cows, after all,” he added, soberly. 

“ Seven of the cows are safe ; the others we’ll 
likely never see again,” said the father. “ But 
you have had a narrow escape. Come, the Brit- 
ish are following to this island as fast as they 
can, so we must lose no time here.” 

Mr. Winthrop led the way, and the entire party 
followed, through an orchard, and across a long 
stretch of meadow. Here were fully half a 
hundred farmers and minute men driving a large 


96 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

number of cows, horses, and sheep before them. 
All told, the live stock numbered about six hun- 
dred heads ; certainly a bunch worth the saving, 
as Mr. Small declared. 

The first body of marines from the British 
war-vessel had now been increased by detach- 
ments from several other ships, and it looked as 
if a battle worse than that at Concord was at 
hand. All Chelsea was aroused, and the minute 
men began gathering at Chelsea Neck, where 
the live stock were being driven over to the main- 
land. As the war-ships could not come very 
near on account of the shallow water, they sent 
out barges mounting swivel-guns, and these be- 
gan to send in their shots at a lively rate. 

We are in for it, men ! ” cried one of the 
captains in command of the Americans. “ But 
hold your places, and we will soon have rein- 
forcements.” 

Here comes Doctor Warren ! ” was the sudden 
cry, and a moment later Doctor, afterward Gen- 
eral, Warren, came dashing up on his charger. 
The doctor was the best known and best beloved 
of all the patriots in and around Boston, and his 
coming created great enthusiasm. 

“ Keep them back, boys!” he shouted, “keep 
them back I General Putnam will soon be here 
with some of the militia. Keep them back 1 ” 

“ We will, doctor ! ” was the reply, and a hurrah 


THE MAN BEHIND THE DRIFTWOOD. 97 

rang out as the impulsive physician seized a 
musket, and let fly at one of the barges, which 
was coming in close to Hog Island. A dozen 
reports followed, and the gunner on the barge, 
who was on the point of discharging his heavily 
loaded swivel, fell back, wounded in two places. 
So hot was the fire of the minute men and boys, 
that at last the barge had to turn about, and 
stand off a hundred and fifty yards farther from 
the shore. 

The sun had gone down and it was growing 
dark, but still the firing continued at odd inter^ 
vals. Men and boys were tremendously hungry 
and thirsty, but food and drink was forthcoming 
in abundance, the women of Chelsea appearing 
with baskets and trays piled high with good 
things. “ Eat all you will ! ” was the cry. ‘‘ But 
don’t, under any circumstances, let the British 
land here ! ” 

As it became darker, the minute men and boys 
were spread out alongshore as a picket-guard. 
It • was a clear night, so all could see some dis- 
tance across the still waters of the harbour. 

“ I wonder how long we will have to remain 
here,” observed Roger to Dick, as the two 
paced the marsh at the water’s edge. 

‘‘I’m sure I don’t know, Roger. I suppose 
those reinforcements will arrive sooner or later.” 

“I’m glad we’ve got the live stock off. Four 


g8 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

or five hundred head of cows and sheep would 
keep Boston in meat for some time.” 

“ I understand they are going to go to the 
other islands soon,” went on Dick. But this will 
serve as a warning to the redcoats, and I reckon 
they will be for capturing what is left as quickly 
as possible.” 

Here the conversation lagged, and each boy 
resumed his picket route. Roger had just made 
his turn, when a dark object, floating about a 
hundred feet from the shore, attracted his at- 
tention. 

“ I wonder what that can be,” he asked him- 
self, and, coming to a halt, he surveyed the 
object intently. “ It looks as if it might be that 
wrecked rowboat. More than likely it is.” 

However, to make certain, he continued to 
watch the floating thing. That it was composed 
of some boards there was no doubt, but it did 
not look altogether like a rowboat, even a half- 
smashed one. At last he called Dick. 

“ It’s a bit of driftwood,” said Dick. “ But it’s 
odd it doesn’t come to shore like the rest of the 
stuff floating about.” 

They continued to watch the object, and, 
presently, to their surprise, saw it move away 
from them even more rapidly than it had ap- 
proached. 

“I’ll wager there is a man behind that wood- 


THE MAN BEHIND THE DRIFTWOOD. 99 

work ! ” cried Roger, struck with a sudden idea. 
“ He is trying to get ashore unobserved ! ” 

“ If that’s the case, let us challenge him.” 

“ I hardly think it will do any good, since we 
have no boat in which to go after him. I have 
another plan. Come with me.” Roger raised 
his voice. “ I’m going back to town. I’m tired 
of playing the fool out here.” 

Dick understood the ruse instantly. “ So am 
I going back,” he said, in an equally loud voice. 
“ Let somebody else play guard here if he wants 
to.” 

Side by side they hurried away from the marsh 
to a road leading to Chelsea. The road was lined 
with trees, and behind the first of these they 
sought shelter. 

Now, unless I am greatly mistaken, we’ll soon 
see something worth watching,” said Roger. 

With strained eyes the two boys crouched be- 
hind the trees and waited. They were now so 
far off that the object in the water could scarcely 
be discerned. 

“ It’s coming this way ! ” whispered Roger, a 
few minutes later. “ It’s driftwood, but there is 
somebody behind it, just as I thought ! ” 

He clutched his musket tightly, and Dick did 
the same. Slowly the object came nearer to shore, 
until at last it stuck in the mud close to the 
reed grass. Then from the rear the form of a 


lOO THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

man came into view, a tall individual, wearing the 
clothing of a private citizen. 

Reaching the dry ground, the man proceeded 
to shake the water from his clothing. This done, 
he struck off toward a side road leading to Salem. 

Without uttering a word, Roger motioned for 
Dick to follow him, and both sped across an 
adjoining field. This brought them out on the 
side road at a point several rods in advance of 
the stranger, who was coming on at a rapid gait, 
his coat buttoned tightly about his neck, and his 
hat pulled well down over his forehead. 

Halt ! ” commanded Roger, as the man drew 
near. “ Halt, or I fire ! ” 

Oh, dear me ! ” came in half a whine. Don’t 
— don’t — shoot, I beg of you ! ” 

“ Why, it’s Deacon Marston ! ” ejaculated Dick. 

What in the world has brought you here in this 
fashion } ” 


CHAPTER X. 


A LETTER OF IMPORTANCE. 

If ever there was a surprised individual, that 
individual was Barnaby Marston, the old hypo- 
crite who had escaped to Boston, after trying to 
steal the Winthrops’ rosewood jewelry box. 

“ Dick Winthrop ! ” he faltered. “ And Roger 
Morse! Where — where did you come from.?” 
And his teeth began to chatter with combined 
cold and fright. 

“ We were watching you from the shore, Mars- 
ton,” replied Roger, who had been as much 
amazed as his chum. Do you surrender or 
not .? ” 

“I — surrender .? What — what do you m-me- 
mean .? ” 

I mean what I say. I consider you an enemy 
of our colonies, and I call upon you to surrender, 
as a prisoner of war.” 

“But, boys, this is a — an imposition,” came 
from the so-styled deacon. “ I am no enemy, as 
you must know.” 


102 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

You are an enemy,” answered Dick, readily. 
“You must surrender, or — ” 

“ Or what } ” 

“We will fire at you.” And Dick again raised 
his musket, which he had allowed to drop, upon 
making his unexpected discovery. 

A howl of sheer fright went up from Barnaby 
Marston, for the sight of a firearm completely 
unnerved him at any time. “ Don’t ! don’t ! ” he 
whined. “I — I’ll give in — anything — only take 
away that gun 1 ” 

“ Have you a pistol with you } ” asked Roger. 

“ No.” 

“ Dick, you had better search him and see. I 
will continue to keep him covered.” 

At this, Marston’s face fell more than ever. 
“ Morse, don’t be so hard upon me, I beseech you. 
I — I am not the bad man you take me to be, 
I can assure you.” 

“ Perhaps you’ll say you didn’t steal that 
jewelry box,” returned Roger, coldly. 

“I — I — that was a mistake, as I tried to 
explain to you down in your orchard.” 

“There was no mistake about it. You intended 
to take it to Boston if you could. You are no 
better than a common thief.” 

“You are cruel to say that, Morse, indeed, in- 
deed you are,” returned the hypocrite. “To tell 
the truth, the battles at Lexington and Concord so 


A LETTER OF IMPORTANCE. 103 

bewildered me that I did not know what I was 
about. I was — ” Deacon Marston broke off 
short, as Dick tried to get into an inner pocket. 
“Must you really search me like this.^ I have 
nothing of value on me, — only a few things of 
my own.” 

“ Dick shall search you from head to foot. Go 
ahead, Dick, and if he resists. I’ll make it warm 
for him,” and Roger tapped his musket signifi- 
cantly. 

The demonstration with the musket nearly 
caused Barnaby Marston to collapse, and the 
search went on without more trouble. But as it 
progressed it was plain to see that the man grew 
more and more nervous. 

“He hasn’t any pistol,” announced Dick. 
“ Here is a watch and some shillings and pence, 
and a five-pound note, and some keys.” 

“ Is that all } ” 

“ Here is a note-book and some letters, one of 
them sealed up. I can’t make out the addresses.” 

“ Put them all into your pocket, Dick ; they may 
prove of value.” 

“ Are you going to rob me ? ” 

“ No, but I think it best to turn over your note- 
book and the letters to the officers here.” 

“ And what will you do with me ? ” 

“ We shall turn you over also ; eh, Dick ? ” 

“To be sure.” 


104 T'HE minute boys of bunker hill. 

But I have done no wrong.” 

“That remains to be proven. What were you 
doing in the water } ” 

“I — er — I fell in.” 

“ Fell in .? Where .? ” 

“At Noddle’s Island. I was visiting Mr. Wil- 
liams there, when the battle started, and I hurried 
to get away. I missed the road and fell into the 
water, and, catching hold of some driftwood, came 
over to the mainland.” 

“That’s a likely story,” returned Roger. “If 
you fell overboard at Noddle’s Island, what you 
would do would be to scramble back to land as 
fast as possible. My private opinion is that you 
came ashore from one of the British ships, and for 
no good purpose. I shall hand you over to — 
Hullo, what’s that ? ” 

A loud shouting on the road had interrupted 
Roger. The shouting continued, and now all 
heard the tramping of foot-soldiers and of horses. 

“ The British are coming ! ” came from the 
shore, and at once all became excitement. This 
report was not true, but its effect upon Roger and 
Dick was disastrous to their plan concerning 
Deacon Marston. 

“ If it’s the British, we must get out of here,” 
ejaculated Dick, and turned to look up the road. 
Roger did the same, and, taking advantage of the 
momentary excitement, Barnaby Marston leaped 


A LETTER OF IMPORTANCE. 


105 


into the brush which lined the roadway, and dis- 
appeared from view. 

He’s gone ! ” 

“ Where did he go to 1 ” 

“ Over to the left.” 

Shall we follow him V 

“ Wait a minute. If the party approaching are 
British, we had better clear out in double-quick 
order ! ” 

The two boys waited, holding their muskets 
ready for use. Nearer and nearer came the foot- 
soldiers and the horsemen. 

“ Hurrah ! It’s General Putnam with the re- 
inforcements ! ” 

And they’ve got two cannon with ’em ! 
Hurrah ! ” 

The news was true. General Israel Putnam, 
that stirring old ‘‘ war-horse ” of Connecticut, had 
come on the scene with two field-pieces and three 
hundred men. As soon as they were certain of 
this, Roger and Dick set off on a hunt for Mar- 
ston, but the rascal had taken time by the fore- 
lock and made good his escape. 

“ Never mind, we have his. letters and his note- 
book ; they may prove valuable,” said Roger. 

But now was no time to examine the things, for 
alongshore all was bustle and excitement. The 
British schooner, filled with marines, had come up 
close, and was firing random shots along the 


I06 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Chelsea water-front. As soon as possible, Gen- 
eral Putnam had his two field-pieces trained upon 
the vessel. 

“ I call upon you to surrender, or I will sink 
you ! ” called the general, and the cry of surrender 
was taken up on all sides. 

‘‘ We didn’t come in to surrender. Take that, 
•with our compliments ! ” was the answering cry, 
and there followed two round shot, one of which 
tore up the ground directly between Putnam’s field- 
pieces, covering his gunners with dirt. Without 
waiting longer, the American cannon were dis- 
charged, and a constant firing was kept up for the 
greater part of two hours. While this was going 
on, those in command of the schooner lost control 
of the craft, and she stuck in the mud. At eleven 
o’clock the firing from the British ceased. 

“ They are abandoning her ! ” was the welcome 
announcement, and it proved true. Finding them- 
selves unable to get the schooner off, and being 
unwilling to remain in such an exposed position 
during daylight, the British left the craft just be- 
fore midnight, and, in several small boats, betook 
themselves to the larger war-vessels in the harbour. 

This ended the battle, if such it may be called, 
for Saturday and the night following. Early on 
Sunday morning a party of a dozen men, headed 
by one Isaac Baldwin, went on board of the 
schooner, stripped her of her guns, ammunition, 


A LETTER OF IMPORTANCE, loy 

sails, and stores, and then burnt her. This was 
done under a constant fire from the British sloop 
previously mentioned, and also from an attack 
from Noddle’s Island, and this brought on a 
second engagement, lasting until Sunday noon, 
when the British withdrew, with a total loss of 
about ten killed and wounded. On the American 
side none were killed and only five wounded. The’ 
contests enriched the colonists to the extent of 
twelve swivel-guns, four 4-pound cannon, and a 
highly acceptable quantity of powder and shot. It 
may be added here that, soon after, another expe- 
dition was organised to Noddle’s Island, and also 
expeditions to Pettick’s Island and to Deer Island, 
which were also successful. But in these expedi- 
tions our minute boys took no part. 

It was well on toward daylight Sunday morning 
when Roger and his chums were released from 
duty. They were thoroughly tired out, and Mr. 
Winthrop had directed Dick to take the cattle to 
the pasture of a friend in Chelsea. The friend’s 
name was Carington, and Mr. Winthrop was cer- 
tain that at this farmer’s home all could find 
resting-places for the balance of the night and as 
long as they might care to sleep. 

“ I must deliver these letters and the note-book 
first,” said Roger. And he hurried off with Dick 
to the captain in command of the minute men of 
Chelsea, not knowing where General Putnam was. 


I08 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

and concluding that this officer would not care to 
waste time over Barnaby Marston’s affairs. 

A brief examination proved that the note-book 
contained but little of value. In it were a number 
of private accounts, showing, only too well, what 
a miserly man the so-called deacon was. He’d 
beat a widow out of her mite if he could,” said 
Dick, as he glanced over the pages of the book. 

The letter that was sealed seemed to be of 
some importance, for the Chelsea captain read it 
carefully several times. Perhaps you young 
men can tell me something of this,” he said. “The 
water has caused the ink to run, and it makes hard 
reading.” 

The letter was signed “U. B.,” and was ad- 
dressed to “ My dear Windotte.” Only about 
half of it could be made out, running as follows : 

“ Marston will carry this to you. I told him he 
would find you at Buckman’s tave . . . and if not, 
he will look for you at some house in the neigh 
. . . was a good plan to use a woman’s dress, but 
if . . . information will be valuable, and we . . . 
eral Gage expects to learn . . . hundred pounds, 
or more ... by Monday night. . . . urs faithfu 
. . . — “U. B.” 

“ Kind of a riddle, eh } ” said the captain, as 
Roger studied the letter. 


A LETTER OF IMPORTANCE. 


109 


It is and it isn’t ! ” burst out Roger. “ I think 
I can see through the millstone.” 

“ What do you make out of it ” 

“ The writer of this letter is Uriah Bed well, the 
Tory, whose house was burnt down over near 
Lexington.” 

“ I see. Well ” 

“ The man called Windotte is a British soldier. 

■ He helped to capture me once, and I remember 
him well. He had a smooth-shaven face, and 
looked for all the world like a woman.” 

‘‘And you think he is masquerading as a 
woman } ” 

“ I do, and he is either at Buckman’s tavern in 
Lexington, or at some farmhouse near it. Marston 
was to go to him, deliver this letter, and then get 
some information, for which General Gage expected 
to pay pretty well.” 

“I believe you’ve struck it, Morse.” 

“To be sure he has struck it!” put in Dick. 
“The British have tried this same game before. 
Only last week they caught a man in woman’s 
clothing, up at Marblehead. He was spying 
around, trying to find out how much of an army 
we had in that district.” 

“ If this is true, we should do something to 
catch this Windotte,” said the captain of the 
Chelsea minute men. 

“ Yes, and right away,” said Roger. “ Remem- 


no THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

ber, Barnaby Marston is at liberty, and probably 
he will try to give this Windotte the alarm. I 
reckon the best thing we can do is to get back to 
Lexington without stopping to sleep here.” 

The matter was talked over for several minutes, 
and Mr. Small, Mr. Winthrop, and half a dozen 
others were called in. As it was not known what 
the British intended to do in and around Chelsea, 
it was thought best not to allow too many of 
those who had come in from Lexington to depart. 

“ I will take care of the cattle and remain 
here,” said Mr. Winthrop. “ Dick and Roger 
can go and tell the men at home, and they can 
take care of this case ; ” and so it was settled, and 
a few minutes later the two chums set off, as tired 
as before, it is true, but still eager to do anything 
which might further the cause of the colonies’ 
independence. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE VISITOR AT THE MORSE HOMESTEAD. 

“ I WONDER how Roger is getting along. ” 

It was Mrs. Morse who spoke, as she lay down 
her well-worn Bible, which she had been devoutly 
reading during the time that Dorothy had been 
absent at the Sunday morning service held in 
the Lexington meeting-house. 

I hope he is all right, mother,” was the girl’s 
reply, as she cast off her shawl and bonnet and 
prepared to set the table for their dinner. “ Some- 
body at church said there had been a fight at the 
islands, but nobody was sure of it.” 

“ There was cannonading during the night, I 
am certain of that, but it may have come from 
Charlestown.” 

‘‘We will soon know, for Roger expected to be 
back by to-morrow night, unless something de- 
tained him,” rejoined the daughter, as she passed 
from the sitting-room into the kitchen. 

The dinner was already on the table, and Mrs. 
Morse was saying grace, when there came a loud 
rap from the front door knocker. For a second 


II 


I 12 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

the mother paused, then finished her prayer. 
“Go, see who it is, Dorothy,” she said. “Per- 
haps some neighbour has brought news.” 

The daughter hastened to the wide oaken door 
and threw it open, to find herself confronted by 
a tall female, plainly dressed and wearing a deep 
bonnet of black. 

“This is Mrs. Morse’s home.?” asked the new- 
comer, in a low tone. 

“Yes, madam,” answered Dorothy. “Will you 
be pleased to walk in .? ” 

“Thank you,” was the return, and the tall 
female entered the wide hallway. “ I trust I am 
not asking too much at your hands, but I was told 
by Mrs. Channing, of Salem, that I might stop here, 
and if I mentioned her name I could rest assured 
of a welcome. I would have stopped at the tav- 
ern, but I am travelling alone, and there are so 
many rough men about — ” The lady did not 
finish, but Dorothy understood her. 

“ Mrs. Channing sent you here .? ” questioned 
the girl, in a puzzled way. 

“ Not exactly that. Miss — Morse — am I right.?” 
Dorothy bowed. “ Miss Morse, not exactly that. 
But you see, it is this way : I am travelling to 
Dorchester, to join my brother, who has just en- 
tered the army. I had to come on alone, and I 
made one stop at Mrs. Channing’s, and she said 
that if I did not care to wait at Buckman’s tavern 


VISITOR AT THE MORSE HOMESTEAD. II3 

for my brother to come for me, I might apply to 
you. Of course, I am willing to pay for the ac- 
commodation, and if you will only take me in. I’ll 
be a thousand times obliged to you in the bargain.” 

Well, I — I will bring my mother to see you,” 
answered Dorothy, hesitatingly. She had looked 
the newcomer squarely in the eyes, and the gaze 
returned far from suited her, it was so cold and 
crafty. “ Pray, take a seat,” and she motioned 
the applicant to a high-backed chair standing 
near the long hall clock. 

It was not necessary to summon Mrs. Morse, 
who already stood at the entrance to the dining- 
room, and who now came forward. At once the 
newcomer offered a thin, white hand. “ I am 
Norah Devore,” she said, introducing herself. 

My brother is a lieutenant tn one of our Mas- 
sachusetts regiments, with his company stationed 
near Dorchester Heights.” And she repeated 
what she had already told Dorothy. If I can 
only stay here until my brother comes for me I 
will pay you well,” she concluded. 

“ And when do you expect your brother ? ” ques- 
tioned Mrs. Morse, and at the same time looked at 
Dorothy, in an endeavour to learn what her daugh- 
ter thought of the proposal. 

He said he would come Monday night or 
Tuesday, if possible. He may, however, keep 
me waiting longer, for, as* you know, in these 


I 14 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

times, it is hard for any army officer to get 
away.” 

I presume that is so.” Mrs. Morse hesitated. 
‘‘What do you think, Dorothy.? You see, since I 
became a semi-invalid, my daughter runs the house, 
and as the work would fall entirely upon her — ” 

“But I will pay well — ” insisted the new- 
comer, for a third time. 

“ It is not a question of money,” put in Dor- 
othy, with her eyes still on that unusual face. 
“ We are not in the habit of entertaining folks 
here, least of all strangers.” 

“Then you refuse to take me in .? ” was the tart 
return. “ It is decidedly uncharitable, to say the 
least. In these days, the tavern is no fit place for 
a lady travelling alone.” 

“We might give Miss Devore a room and her 
meals until Tuesday,” said Mrs. Morse, as she 
turned aside with her daughter, her tender heart 
touched. “ I would not wish to go to the tavern, 
were I travelling alone.” 

“I don’t like her looks, — they are not honest,” 
murmured the girl. 

“ But Mrs. Channing sent her here,” returned 
the mother, in an equally low tone. 

“ We have only her word for it. She may be a 
thief, or worse.” 

“We must not be uncharitable, child. We can 
watch her closely while she remains.” 


VISITOR AT THE MORSE HOMESTEAD. I15 

“ As you will, mother, but I hardly approve of 
it,” and Dorothy gave the newcomer another close 
scrutiny. 

A few minutes later the newcomer had laid off 
her shawl and bonnet and was seated at the dinner- 
table. She had professed to be very hungry, but 
now ate sparingly of the humble Sunday fare pro- 
vided, for in those days a sumptuous Sabbath meal 
would have been looked upon as something of a 
sacrilege. 

The newcomer had brought a large hand-bag, 
and this was taken to a pleasant room on the sec- 
ond floor of the house. Miss Devore had asked 
particularly for a front room, “ So that I can 
watch for my brother,” as she put it, and this 
was given to her. She said she would lie down 
to rest, having journeyed a long distance the night 
before. 

She is very agreeable, Dorothy,” was Mrs. 
Morse’s comment, when the two were in the 
kitchen alone. 

“ She is, so far as her speech goes, but there is 
something about her general appearance that I do 
not admire,” returned the girl. 

Hen had been out to the pasture, looking after 
a cow that had sunk into a bog hole. “ Got a 
boarder, have ye .^ ” he grinned, after Mrs. Morse 
had told him. “ Well, I reckon ef she wants tew 
keep quiet she hed better keep away from Dor- 


Il6 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Chester. There air goin’ to be mighty lively 
times in Dorchester, Cambridge, an’ Charlestown 
afore long, fer sartin.” 

Immediately after his dinner was despatched. 
Hen walked up to Lexington Green, to learn if 
there was any news from the front, for in those 
exciting times the news was carried everywhere as 
quickly as possible on horseback. The hired man 
was particularly anxious to hear from Roger, who 
was the apple of his eye. 

‘‘Ef anything happens tew thet boy I’ll never 
forgive myself fer lettin’ him go off without me,” 
he mused. ^‘Gosh, but I must be a-gittin’ tew 
the front soon or my old flintlock will be growin’ 
rusty. I wish Doctor Warren or Mr. Adams 
would order a raid on Boston, — we’d soon wipe 
out them pesky redcoats,” and he began to hum 
an old-fashioned colonial song to himself, running 
somewhat in this fashion : 

“ King George’s men are coming on, 

To make us pay the tax O ! 

We’ll never pay a penny in, 

The bullies we will wax O ! 

We’ll run ’em out of Boston town, 

An’ hang ’em by the heels O ! 

We’ll tax their coffins and their plot 
An’ ask ’em how it feels O ! ” 

Around the green and the tavern quite a num- 
ber of boys and elderly men were gathered, the 


VISITOR A T THE MORSE HOMESTEAD. 1 1 7 

middle-aged being largely at the front. A rider 
from Charlestown had just come in, and while he 
was getting refreshments he told of what had hap- 
pened during Saturday afternoon on Hog and Nod- 
dle’s Islands. “ They were still at it when I left, 
and Frn afraid the redcoats are getting the best 
of it.” 

This news put a damper on the enthusiasm, but 
many did not believe it. Soon the rider was off, 
on his way to Concord, and after chatting with 
some friends for half an hour. Hen prepared to 
return home. As he was about to leave a far- 
away roll of a drum greeted his ears. 

“A New Hampshire regiment is coming!” was 
the cry, and men, women, and children came 
running from every direction. It was an unusual 
sight to see a whole regiment from another colony, 
and especially on a Sabbath day. Soon the regi- 
ment appeared, coming down the road on a route 
step, with drums beating, fifes whistling, and ban- 
ners flying. The officers were on horseback, and 
all presented a soldierly appearance, even if the 
men were but half uniformed and half armed. 

“ We’re going to the front to teach old ^Gage a 
lesson I ” was the cry. “ Don’t hang back I Come 
along I ” 

I’ll be with ye soon I ” shouted Hen, as he 
waved his hand at one company after another. 

If ye git the chance, see ye wax ’em good I ” 


Il8 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

As the regiment passed the Morse homestead, 
Hen followed the last company, keeping step with 
some of the men to ask where they were from, and 
what particular district they were going to guard. 
But the men could not tell where they were 
going. 

“I left hum in a mighty hurry,” said one. 
“ Wuz cuttin’ down a walnut-tree an’ got her half 
through. She’s got to stand thet way till I git 
back.” The man’s name was Silas Codman, and 
it may be mentioned here that Codman went all 
through the Revolutionary War, and came home, 
after four years’ absence, to finish cutting down 
the very walnut-tree in question. 

As he approached the homestead. Hen noticed 
Dorothy and her mother at the front door, waving 
their hands. Then his gaze travelled to the win- 
dow of the upper room the stranger was occupying. 
The sight that met his gaze filled him with inter- 
est. The lady sat close to the opening and was 
apparently counting the soldiers. In her lap lay 
a tablet, upon which every few minutes she put 
down some figures. 

“ She’s most mightily interested,” was Hen’s 
mental comment. Then, as the soldiers drew out 
of sight down the road to Charlestown Neck, he 
sauntered over to a field opposite the house, that 
he might get a better view of the upper room. 
“ Ef Miss Dorothy don’t like her it won’t do no 


VISITOR AT THE MORSE HOMESTEAD. I 1 9 

harm to spy on her a bit,” reasoned the Vermonter, 
whose bump of inquisitiveness was as large as his 
nasal organ was long. 

In the field was a large elm-tree, and standing 
behind this it was easy for Hen to see without 
being seen. He saw the lady writing rapidly in a 
small note-book, which she soon after slipped into 
her bosom. Then she arose, and, placing her hand- 
bag on the bed, began to unlock it. 

“ Goin’ tew shake out her dresses, I reckon,” 
he murmured, when he saw something which 
astonished him greatly, for from the bag, which 
was a commodious one, the lady drew a pair of 
man’s knee-breeches, a waistcoat with ruffles, a 
pair of long silken hose, and a pair of buckle shoes 
to match. 

By gum ! ” 

For the moment Hen could say no more, for 
his breath had been almost taken away. He con- 
tinued to watch, and saw Norah Devore replace 
the articles in the hand-hag. Then the lady re- 
treated to the rear of the apartment, and though 
he was not certain, he imagined that she removed 
the long mass of black hair with which her head 
had been covered. 

“ Now what in creation is she a-doin’ with them 
air man’s clothin’ ? ” thought Hen. An’ ef thet 
hair ain’t her own why is she a-wearin’ of it, like 
an actor on the stage ? I must allow ez how I 


120 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

don’t like this fer a shillin’. Reckon I’ll tell Miss 
Dorothy wot I seed,” and without delay he started 
for the back door of the homestead, making a wide 
detour for that purpose. He managed to find 
Dorothy alone, Mrs. Morse having lain down to 
rest, for the doctor had told her that the more 
she kept quiet the sooner would she become 
entirely well. 

“Yes, it is very odd. Hen,” said the girl, when 
the hired man’s tale was finished. “ But it may 
be possible the clothing is for her brother. I do 
not like her at all, but — but — what are we to 
do.?” 

“ Don’t do anything, — only let me put in a 
leetle time keepin’ an’ eye on her,” returned the- 
hired man; and so it was arranged. 


CHAPTER XII. 


HEN PEABODY INVESTIGATES. 

Late in the afternoon the stranger announced 
that she was going out for a walk, and- asked 
Dorothy to accompany her, knowing full well that 
the girl must remain at home to wait on her 
mother, who had just experienced one of those 
strange sinking spells which came and went without 
warning. “ If I am not back to supper do not wait 
for me, since I am not hungry,” said the odd-looking 
lady, and walked off. 

Hen was around the kitchen at the time, whit- 
tling out some jackstraws with a sharp knife. 
Whistling softly to himself, the lean Vermonter 
put away his whittlings and his blade, put on his 
hat, and sauntered off likewise, but by a back path. 
He saw the lady take to the road leading to Bed- 
ford, and by running along the stone walls and 
trees to the left of this highway easily kept her in 
sight without being seen. 

Nearly a mile was passed and the lady reached 
a small cottage occupied by a very old man named 
Darrel Kirk. Kirk was known to be a hard 


I2I 


122 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL, 

customer,” having been both a drinker and a 
fighter in his day; but now he was over eighty 
years of age, and he had declined to take sides in 
the present controversy between the colonies and 
the mother country. I fit enow in me time,” 
he would say. “ Onless they be laggards let the 
younger blood settle the matter, — I’ll have nay 
o’ it,” and he was left alone, to do as he chose. 

Coming up to the door of Darrel Kirk’s home, 
the lady knocked loudly three times, and then 
three times more. There was a bustle within, and 
presently a small wicket near the top of the door 
was opened cautiously. 

‘^Who bees knockin’.?” came in Kirk’s shrill 
tones. He was a good deal of a hermit, and 
hated to be disturbed. 

The lady replied in a low tone, so that Hen, 
even though he had come quite close, could not 
hear what was said. There followed a conversa- 
tion lasting several minutes, after which the door 
was opened and the lady entered the house. 

“ This is most mysterious, tew say the least,” 
mused Hen. ‘‘This ain’t no oncommon call, not 
by a jugful. I reckon I hed best see wot she an’ 
old Kirk air up to.” 

With great caution Hen walked around the 
house, which was set in the midst of a grove of 
maple-trees. To his chagrin, every door below 
was tightly shut. The windows were also closed, 


HEN PEABODY INVESTIGATES. 


23 


and over them Kirk had either drawn shades or 
hung up bits of old flour sacking. 

“ He ain’t goin’ fer to be spied upon,” went on 
the Vermonter, meditatingly. Then he looked at 
the upper windows. One of them was partly 
open, and it was close to an outstanding branch 
of a sturdy tree. 

The proximity of the window to the tree branch 
gave Hen an idea, and in a trice he was mounting 
the tree. Crawling out on the branch, he caught 
hold of the window-sill and from this dropped into 
the bedroom beyond. 

Having proceeded thus far, the Vermonter 
paused, considering what his next move might 
be. From below came the low murmur of voices. 
Straining his ears, he caught a few words, but 
being disconnected, they were unintelligible to 
him. However, he made certain that three peo- 
ple were talking, and he wondered who the third 
party might be. 

The bedroom was piled high with odds and ends 
of furniture, boxes, and barrels, the accumulation 
of years, for Kirk was one of those persons that 
believe in saving everything, even if it is a hat 
without a crown or a pair of boots without soles. 
Picking his way among this rubbish. Hen descended 
the enclosed staircase leading into the kitchen 
below. The door was ajar, and by the voices the 
Vermonter learned that the talking was being 


124 'THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

done in the front room. Pausing only an instant, 
Hen slipped into the kitchen and behind the door 
leading to a narrow pantry. 

It is very hard to get the information, Captain 
Rembrandt,” the lady Hen was watching was 
saying. “That last regiment was exactly four 
hundred and sixty men strong, and of those less 
than three hundred were armed.” 

“ And what of that regiment you met at 
Salem ? ” 

“That contained nearly five hundred men, and 
over four hundred were well armed.” 

“And where were the regiments going.? ” 

“ The one from Salem was bound for Cam- 
bridge. I haven’t found out anything about the 
other regiment yet.” 

“ And about those army orders you were to beg, 
borrow, or steal from Captain Wilkney .? ” 

“ He is a thorough rebel, and I could do noth- 
ing with him. But give me time and I’ll get the 
information, as sure as my name is Henry Win- 
dotte,” returned the party dressed as a lady. 

“ By gum ! ” muttered Hen. “ I half suspected 
it, but git me ef this ain’t carryin’ the spy business 
putty fur. Won’t I jest land on Mister Henry 
Windotte fer imposin’ on Mrs. Morse an’ Dorothy ! 
He sha’n’t git back tew Boston tew tell about it, 
nuther,” and the Vermonter shut his teeth hard. 

“ I am instructed to get all of my information 


HEN PEABODY INVESTIGATES. 12 $ 

in as soon as possible,” said Captain Rembrandt, 
who will be remembered by readers of the former 
volume as having been at one time a confederate 
of Uriah Bed well. 

‘‘ And what of that plot to capture Doctor 
Warren and Samuel Adams ” put in Darrel Kirk, 
in his treble voice. “To my mind, thet’s an on- 
common fine trick to be played.” 

“ All in good part, Kirk, but keep your mouth 
closed, or you’ll get into trouble with your neigh- 
bours.” 

“ Trouble Oh, no, nobuddy will hurt old 
Darrel,” squeaked the old man. “ I’m too old 
to take part in this trouble, indeed I be ! ” 

“ But ye ain’t too old to allow these redcoats 
an’ spies tew use yer house fer a meetin’-place,” 
muttered Hen, wrathfully. “ Reckon we’ll have 
an account tew settle with you, likewise, afore 
long ! ” 

The talk in the sitting-room went on for ten 
minutes longer, and then Captain Rembrandt 
turned suddenly to Darrel Kirk. 

“Brew us up that hot drink, Kirk,” he said. 
“ I am tremendously dry.” 

At once the old man hurried into the kitchen, 
and to the very pantry in which Hen was hiding. 
The tall Vermonter tried to drop behind a flour 
barrel, but his form was too elongated for this 
purpose and he was easily seen. 


126 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

“ Hen Peabody ! ” gasped old Kirk. What 
be you a-doin’ here } Hi ! hi ! here be a spy ! ” he 
bawled, as Hen arose and caught him by the arm, 
warningly. 

“A spy!” ejaculated Captain Rembrandt. 

Who is it ” added Henry Windotte. 

Both ran into the kitchen, each drawing a pistol 
as he moved. In a second more poor Hen was 
so well covered that escape was entirely out of 
the question. 

‘‘ That hired man ! ” muttered Windotte. He 
remembered Hen well, having not only seen him 
at the Morse homestead, but also before, at the 
meeting in the forest, at the time of the battles 
of Lexington and Concord. 

‘‘Who is it } ” queried the British captain. 

“ He is the hired man up to the house at which 
I am stopping. He is a great friend to that boy 
who spied on us up at Bedwell’s house a little 
over a month ago.” 

“ Indeed I And how did he come here } ” 

“ Sure an’ I don’t know,” put in Darrel Kirk. 
“ All of the doors an’ winders are ban;ed, as 
you can easily see.” 

“ Never mind, he is here and that is enough.” 
Captain Rembrandt turned a fierce look upon 
Hen. “ What have you to say for yourself, fel- 
low } ” he demanded. 

“Wall, seein’ ez how I’m putty well cornered. 





“‘HEN PEABODY ! ’ GASPED OLD KIRK.” 




HEN PE ABO D Y INVESTIGA TES. 1 29 

perhaps you hed better do the talkin’, cap’n,” 
drawled the Vermonter. 

“You sneaked in here to spy on us.” 

“ No ; I reckon I came in tew pay Darrel Kirk 
a friendly Sunday call.” 

“It’s not so — he bees no friend to I,” bawled 
the old man. “ He bees a spy.” 

“ Wall, ef I am it air a better business nor 
paradin’ around in female clothes,” said Hen, 
with a glance at Windotte. 

“ Your spying upon us may cost you dear, 
my man,” said Captain Rembrandt, signifi- 
cantly. 

“ Thet’s to be seen, cap’n.” 

“ You will see it very soon.” 

“Wot do ye calkerlate tew do — shoot me on 
the spot } ” 

“ I don’t know but what we had better.” 

“ He ought to be shot,” growled Windotte. 
His female attire was repulsive to him and to be 
twitted about it made him angry. 

“ If yer so cold-blooded ez all thet, why, go 
ahead — I can’t stop ye,” returned the Vermonter. 
“But — ” 

“ But what } ” 

“My friends will make ye pay the penalty, 
mark thet ! ” 

“ Do your friends know where you are } ” asked 
Captain Rembrandt, quickly. 


130 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Never mind — ye’ll learn fast enough, never 
fear.” 

“ Captain, the minute men may be surrounding 
this house now ! ” burst out Henry Windotte, in 
alarm. 

''We will soon see,” was the ready reply. 
" Man, do you surrender, or shall we shoot you 
where you stand t ” 

"Ef it’s jest the same. I’ll surrender.” 

" Very well. Kirk, give us a strong rope.” 

The article in question was quickly forthcoming, 
and Hen’s hands and feet were tied tightly. 
Then he was thrown into the pantry, which had 
no window, and the door was closed and buttoned 
upon him. 

" Now, Kirk, stand guard here with your gun,” 
went on the British captain. " If he escapes it 
will cost you your life. Come, Windotte, perhaps 
we haven’t a moment to spare. Fortunately I 
have two horses handy. Come ! ” 

The two men ran to the front door of the house 
and cast open the wicket. Not a soul was in 
sight, and presently both emerged into the open. 

" I don’t see any one, captain.” 

" Nor I, Windotte ; but we must be careful. 
You take a walk to the right and I will walk to 
the left. The horses are down in yonder hollow, 
should we need them.” 

Half an hour sufficed to convince the two 


HEN PEABODY INVESTIGATES. 


3 


Englishmen that nobody but Hen had come to 
the house. Then a consultation was had and the 
two went in again. 

It was dark when Henry Windotte, still attired 
as a lady, walked back to the Morse homestead. 
The calculating look in his eyes was deeper than 
ever. 

“ We’ll make that confounded rebel talk sooner 
or later,” he muttered as he strode along. “ He’ll 
be mighty hungry and thirsty by to-morrow and 
willing to tell a thing or two for the sake of a cup 
of water. And if that doesn’t fetch him, we can 
hang him up by the thumbs. That always brings 
them to their senses.” 

Reaching the house, he found that Dorothy had 
kept supper waiting for him and now he was hun- 
gry enough to eat a good deal, even though the 
Sunday fare was plain. Dorothy waited on him, 
at the same time wondering what had become of 
the hired man. 

“ Hen will have something to tell when he gets 
back, I feel certain of it,” she thought. “ But 
what can be keeping him so long ? I trust no 
harm has befallen him.” 

At . ten o’clock family and visitor retired. As 
Mrs. Morse knew nothing of Hen’s disappearance, 
she rested in ease. But Dorothy was greatly 
worried and hardly closed her eyes. At five 
o’clock she was up and bustling around. The 


132 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

hired man was still absent. She went to the 
door of the visitor’s room and listened. Not even 
the sound of breathing reached her ear, and after 
a moment’s hesitation she opened the door. The 
room was vacant, — visitor and hand-bag had 
disappeared. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE TWO SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 

Hen is gone ? ” 

“Yes, Roger, he followed the woman Sunday 
afternoon, and that is the last I saw of him.” 

“ And she disappeared through the night, 
Dorothy ? Have you any idea where to ” 

“ None whatever. Oh, Roger, what can have 
become of Hen ? Do you think the spies, or 
whatever they are, have harmed him ? ” 

“ I don’t know what to think, Dorothy. Cer- 
tainly something is wrong. That visitor of yours 
was undoubtedly the man named Windotte.” 

“ A man ! ” Dorothy stood breathless for a mo- 
ment. “ I believe you ! Oh, Roger, this is the 
worst of all ! ” and the tears started to the girl’s 
eyes. 

“ No, it isn’t ; Hen’s disappearance is the worst. 
But tell me all you know and I’ll try to hunt him 
up.” 

Roger had come in but a few minutes before, 
having ridden almost constantly since leaving 
Chelsea. Dick was with him, and now both 
133 


134 M/NUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

dropped into chairs in the dining-room, while 
Dorothy bustled about, preparing a warm meal 
for them, and telling all she knew at the same 
time. Mrs. Morse, quite helpless, sat in a rock- 
ing-chair, looking on. 

“ I notified several of the men as I came along, 
and a strict watch will be kept for Windotte,” 
said Roger, when his sister had finished. “ But 
the chances are that he is safe in Boston by this 
time. You haven’t seen anything of Deacon 
Marston } ” 

“No.” 

“ I thought he might be around to give Win- 
dotte a hint of what has occurred. But I reckon 
he’s so scared that he will keep out of sight, or 
get back to Boston as soon as he can.” 

“ Did you notice what direction Hen took when 
he left ? ” put in Dick, who had thus far said but 
little. 

“ I think both the lady, or rather the man, 
and he took the Bedford road. I watched them 
walking past the meeting-house.” 

The meal was soon despatched, and then Roger 
and Dick arose. 

“ We must get on Hen’s track,” said the former. 
“ Of course you’ll help, Dick.” 

“To be sure, but it may be like looking for a 
grain of corn in a wheat bin.” 

“Never mind, we must find him, or find out 


THE TWO SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 1 35 

something about him,” was the determined answer. 
“Come, there is no use in losing any time.” 

“But you look ready to drop, Roger,” inter- 
posed Mrs. Morse. “ I dare say you have hardly 
slept a wink for several nights.” 

“That is true, mother, but it can’t be helped. 
I know you are as much worried about Hen as 
any of us.” 

“Yes, indeed, — he has always been so faithful 
to our interests,” and the lady of the house gave 
a deep sigh. 

Soon Roger and Dick were off, passing the 
tavern and the meeting-house, where that stirring 
battle had taken place only six weeks before. 
Then all had been bustle and excitement ; now 
all was peaceful, the warm wind sighing through 
the trees and the birds singing as cheerily as if 
there was no such thing in life as war. But 
beyond the roadway the fields were still torn up 
from the countless tracks of men, horses, and 
wheels, and nothing had been done to repair the 
damage done to the last fall’s sowing, nor had 
any attempt at early spring planting been made. 
Ploughshares had been cast aside for swords 
and muskets, and there was no telling when the 
conflict was to come to an end. 

Having proceeded along the Bedford road for 
several rods, Roger called a halt. “ We won’t 
gain anything by going it blind,” he said. “ Let 


136 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL, 

US do a little figuring on this matter, Dick, and 
try to find out just where Hen went.” 

‘H’m willing. But what can we figure on — 
Hen’s footprints } ' The footprints around here all 
look alike to me. We might get Big Fly Charlie, 
the Indian, to do the tracking for us.” Dick re- 
ferred to a half-breed who had lived around Lex- 
ington for years. He was a splendid hunter, and 
as good on a trail as a bloodhound. 

“ I don’t think the footprints will help us — 
there are too many of them. But if Hen came 
this way he was following Windotte. Now the 
question is, where did Windotte go } ” 

I give it up, Roger.” 

Below here is Mr. Bartlett’s house and next 
comes Dickson’s. Those folks we know are with 
us heart and soul, so it isn’t likely Windotte would 
call upon them.” 

No, he wouldn’t go there.” 

“The next place is old Darrel Kirk’s. The 
last time I went past, Kirk had his place entirely 
closed up. Would Windotte go there ? ” 

“What for.?” 

“ I don’t know — excepting Kirk might be in- 
clined to help the British. I always thought he 
was more than half a Tory.” 

“We can call on Kirk and see, Roger.” 

“ Come on, then, and if we don’t find anything 
there, let us go on to the Crandalls. Old Cran- 


THE TWO SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 1 37 

dall is a Tory and getting ready to move into 
Boston, I know.” 

Off the pair set again, and ten minutes of brisk 
walking brought them to the maple grove in which 
was located Darrel Kirk’s home. They had just 
passed the first line of trees when Dick suddenly 
clutched Roger’s arm. 

Out of sight, quick ! ” he cried. 

“ What did you see t ” asked Roger, as he 
dropped behind a tree stump. 

‘^Two men just entered the back door.” 

Did you recognise them } ” 

No.” 

Was either of them old Kirk } ” 

No.” 

Humph ! That looks suspicious, for Kirk was 
never in the habit of having anybody around. He 
used to set that dog of his on to every one, until 
Sam Dickerson up and shot the beast.” 

The Two boys held their position behind the 
trees for several minutes, and then Roger mo- 
tioned for Dick to follow him, and as silently as 
shadows the two approached close to the side of 
the dilapidated residence. 

As before, every door and window was tightly 
closed below, and now those above were also 
fastened. 

It was growing dark, and this aided them in 
their movements. 


138 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

“ I’ll wager a secret meeting of some sort is 
going on here,” whispered Roger. “Old Kirk 
wouldn’t have everything as tight as a drum for 
nothing.” 

“You may well say as tight as a drum,” grinned 
Dick. “ Here is the air-hole in the shell,” and he 
pointed to where a pane of glass in one of the 
windows had a small corner broken out. Put- 
ting his ear to the opening, he listened for a 
moment, then motioned for Roger to do the 
same. 

A conversation was going on inside, between 
three men. Roger recognised Darrel Kirk’s voice, 
and the others sounded strangely familiar. “ If I 
could only get a peep at them,” he thought, when 
his eye caught sight of a round hole in one of 
the sackings Kirk had hung up as a substitute 
for a regular shade. The hole was about a foot 
above his head. “Lift me up, Dick, please,” he 
whispered. - 

Roger’s chum complied. One look into the 
sitting-room beyond, and the minute boy was 
strongly tempted to give a low whistle. 

“ Whom did you see } ” asked Dick as Roger 
came down. 

“ Kirk, that soldier named Windotte, and that 
Captain Rembrandt I met at Uriah Bedwell’s 
house!” was the low but excited reply. “They 
are seated around the table, drinking ale and 


THE TWO SPIES AND THEIR WORN. 1 39 

examining some papers, — that is, the Britishers 
are examining the papers.” 

“ Is Windotte dressed as a woman } ” 

“ No ; but there is a hand-bag on the floor, open, 
and there is woman’s clothing in it.” 

Then Dorothy was right. But where is 
Hen.?” 

“That remains to be found out.” 

The talk had been carried on in the lowest 
possible whisper. Now Roger applied his ear 
once more to the opening. 

For a long while he heard nothing that he could 
understand. Captain Rembrandt and Windotte 
were discussing figures and the movements of 
soldiers. Then, however, he heard something 
that caused him to listen more attentively than 
ever. 

“ So he won’t talk yet .? ” said Captain Rem- 
brandt. “ He must have more backbone than I 
gave him credit for.” 

“Oh, some of these minute men are regular 
oaks,” returned Windotte. “A fellow must al- 
most admire them for their sturdiness, enemies 
though they be.” 

“ Bah ! they are rebels, Windotte, that is enough. 
If I had the saying of it, I would give none of 
them quarter.” 

“ He’s e’enmost starved,” put in Darrel Kirk, 
“ yet he won’t beg for a mouthful.” 


140 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

“ I’ll try him again,” muttered Captain Rem- 
brandt. Remember, Windotte, we must get back 
to Boston to-night.” 

I know it.” 

“ If he won’t talk I’ll put a bullet through his 
head, and we can pitch him into the pond back of 
here,” went on the captain, determinedly, under- 
standing full well the bold game he was playing. 

He arose, and his companions followed him. 
Darrel Kirk, taking up the lighted candle, led the 
way to the cellar stairs. Down these all three 
went, leaving the rooms above in total darkness. 

“Dick, Hen is found. He is a prisoner here, 
and they are starving him to death, and may shoot 
him ! ” came from Roger, in hurried tones. “We 
must get at him somehow.” 

“ But how, Roger ? ” 

“ Let us try that back door. Even if it is 
locked we may be able to burst it open.” 

Away went the two lads, to find the rear door 
to the house latched, but the latch-string was on 
the outside. 

Swiftly but cautiously Roger pulled upon the 
string, and the door came open. Then they tip- 
toed their way into the dark kitchen. The door 
to the cellar stood ajar, and from here streamed a 
faint light. 

Both minute boys had brought their muskets 
along, and now they felt of the flints and locks to 



“‘THE Ix\HUMAN BRUTES,’ THOUGHT ROGER AS HE 
SURVEYED THE SCENE.” 




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THE TWO STIES AND THEIR WORE. 1 43 * 

see if they were ready for use. Roger was the 
first at the head of the stairs. 

If it comes to shooting, take Windotte, the 
clean-faced man,” he whispered. “ I will take 
care of the captain.” And Dick pinched his arm 
to show that he understood. 

They listened intently, then moved like shadows 
down the steps. Looking ahead, they saw that 
Hen had been tied to a beam in the front part of 
the cellar. Each thumb had a rope around it, and 
his body was hoisted up so that just his toes 
touched the stone flooring. 

“The inhuman brutes! ” thought Roger, as he 
surveyed the scene. He was tempted to put a 
bullet through the British captain on the spot. 

“No, I won’t tell ye nuthin’,” Hen was saying. 
“ I’m done with ye.” 

“ Don’t you care to live ? ” demanded Captain 
Rembrandt. 

“ Not at the price ye ask. If ye think tew 
murder me, do so an’ hev done with it.” 

“You had better tell our captain what you 
know,” put in Windotte. 

“ I’ve said all I’m a-goin^ tew say. I hate the 
sight o’ a redcoat an’ a Tory, an’ thet’s enough.” 

Hen’s coolness seemed to exasperate Captain 
Rembrandt beyond all endurance. He was natu- 
rally a hot-tempered man, and now he lost complete 
control of himself. 


144 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

‘‘ I won’t bother with him, Windotte ! ” he cried, 
passionately. “ He is a rebel and a traitor to our 
good King George III., and as such I shall shoot 
him down where he stands, and feel justified in 
doing it. Man, if you have any prayers to say, 
say them now ; for in two minutes you shall die.” 

As he concluded. Captain Rembrandt pulled out 
his pistol and aimed it squarely at the Vermonter’s 
heart. For once in his life Hen Peabody turned 
pale ; for it looked to him as if his last moment 
on earth had come, and that nothing could inter- 
fere to save him. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


OFF FOR THE FRONT. 


** Stop ! ” 

The unexpected command, coming from directly 
behind them, caused Captain Rembrandt and Win- 
dotte to wheel around swiftly. 

“Who spoke.?” questioned the captain, as soon 
as he could catch his breath. 

“ I did,” came from behind the cellar stairs, and 
now the British captain saw a musket-barrel pro- 
truding from a hole in the back boarding of the 
fifth step. “ Drop that pistol, or you’re a dead 
man.” 

“We are discovered!” gasped Darrel Kirk. 
“ Oh, what shall I do ! ” and he fell upon his knees. 

“ The Old Nick take the luck I ” burst from 
Windotte. “ Come on, captain, there is no time 
to — ” 

The crack of a musket swallowed up the re- 
mainder of his speech. Captain Rembrandt, 
instead of dropping his weapon, had turned it 
toward the steps. It was Roger’s firearm that 
145 


146 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

spoke up, and down went the British officer’s arm 
to his side, while the pistol clanked on the stones. 

“ Stand where you are, both of you,” came from 
Dick, and now those in the front of the cellar saw 
one musket-barrel withdrawn and another hastily 
substituted. The boys were safe behind the broad 
steps, and could fire from the hole as from the 
port of a fortress. 

“ Don’t shoot ! ” screamed Darrel Kirk. I 
surrender ! Don’t shoot, for the love of heaven ! ” 
Don’t shoot ! ” added Windotte, likewise much- 
alarmed, as he saw the captain’s arm go down. In 
the meantime Roger was reloading with all possi- 
ble speed. 

“ Heaven be praised ! ” came from Hen. 
“ Shoot ’em down, men, shoot ’em down ! They 
desarve it ! ” he went on, thinking some men of 
Lexington had come to his rescue. 

“ Stand perfectly still ! ” went on Dick. “ A 
single step and I’ll fire ! ” 

‘‘ Oh, spare an old man, an’ take all I have ! ” 
came, with a groan, from old Kirk. 

By this time Roger’s musket was again ready 
for use ; and now he stepped from behind the 
stairs, leaving Dick still at the hole. 

‘‘Roger!” ejaculated Hen, in glad surprise. 

“Captain Rembrandt, don’t move,” said the 
youth. “ Darrel Kirk, listen to me. You undoubt- 
edly have a knife in your pocket. Take it out and 


OFF FOR THE FRONT. 147 

cut the ropes that bind Hen Peabody. Windotte, 
a single step will cost you your life.” 

— I’ll do any — anything ! ” gasped Darrel 
Kirk. Only don’t — don’t shoot ! ” 

Trembling in every limb, the old man suc- 
ceeded, after some trouble, in producing his jack- 
knife ; and, going up to Hen, he cut the Ver- 
monter down, and then cut the ropes from his 
wrists and his ankles. 

The instant Hen was released, he ran forward 
and caught up Captain Rembrandt’s pistol. In 
the meantime, Kirk ran to a far corner and crouched 
down in a heap. The old man was now so com- 
pletely overcome that he was losing his wits. 

“ Hen, supposing you bind our prisoners } 
suggested Roger. Turn about is fair play.” 

“ Gosh ! but thet’s a capital idee,” chuckled the 
Vermonter. He caught up the rope and ap- 
proached Windotte. “ I hain’t forgot you,” he 
said. “ Remember when you an’ thet tudder 
crowd was a-goin’ tew burn me with a red-hot 
bayonet } I reckon the boot is on tudder leg, 
now, eh } ” 

Windotte turned pale, and gave a shiver. Yes, 
he remembered only too well, and he felt that he 
could expect no mercy at the tall Yankee’s hands. 

But now there came a swift and unexpected 
change. Without being noticed. Captain Rem- 
brandt had moved a little nearer to the candle. 


148 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

which stood in its candlestick on a keg. A swift 
blow, and out went the light, leaving the cellar 
in total darkness. 

Three shots rang out, coming from the two 
boys and Hen, and a yell from Windotte followed. 
Then came a rush for the cellar stairs, and three 
or four met in a bunch there and went down. 

“ Who is this } ” cried Dick, grabbing some- 
body by the arm. “ Speak up ! ” 

“ It’s me ! ” came from Hen, and the two sepa- 
rated. In the meantime, Roger had caught hold 
of Windotte, who was shot through the shoulder. 
But somebody had gone up the steps three at a 
time, and was now making for the cottage door. 
It was Captain Rembrandt. 

As quickly as it could be done a light was 
struck, and the candle relit. It was found that 
Windotte was out of the struggle, having fainted 
from pain and the loss of blood. Darrel Kirk 
remained in his corner, shrieking loudly that he 
be spared, even if they took all he possessed. 

The captain — ” began Roger. 

He went up,” answered Dick. He hit me 
here,” and he pointed to his left cheek, which was 
bleeding from a scratching blow. 

Dick, stay here an’ take charge,” put in Hen. 
“ Come on, Roger,” and away he went up the cellar 
stairs, with the boy close behind him. 

But to make a light and understand the situa- 


OFF FOR THE FRONT. 


149 


tion had taken time, and now, as they emerged 
into the open air, they heard Captain Rembrandt 
urging forward his horse, which had been tethered 
in the woods behind the dwelling. “ Go, Lionel, 
go!” came loudly. “Go, as you never went 
before, for my life depends upon it 1 ” and then 
there was a flash of man and horseflesh, as both 
disappeared down a trail leading to the Boston 
highway. 

Hen and Roger fired, but missed their mark. 
Then each looked inquiringly at the other. 

“ He’s got the best of it, so far,” said Roger. 
“If we had horses — ” 

“ Hain’t thar another boss around, — one be- 
longin’ tew Windotte ” questioned the Vermon- 
ter. 

“ That’s so I Come and look.” 

They started immediately, but in five minutes 
felt assured that, if there had been such an animal. 
Captain Rembrandt had driven it off before mount- 
ing his own. 

Feeling that pursuit on foot would be useless, 
both returned to Darrel Kirk’s house, to find that 
Dick and Kirk had carried Windotte up-stairs and 
laid him on a couch. The Britisher was just com- 
ing to his senses. 

“Spare an old man,” began Kirk, on seeing 
them, and fell upon his knees. “ Don’t give me 
up to the — the mob I ” He was filled with terror. 


150 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

for he remembered well how an old man of Salem, 
also a traitor, had been ridden through the town 
on a wooden horse, and had then been smeared in 
tar and rolled in feathers, after which he was driven 
into the woods and threatened with shooting on 
sight. What became of this individual was never 
afterward ascertained. 

‘‘ Is he badly hurt .? ” asked Roger, ignoring the 
old fellow. 

“ I think he is.” 

Then we must get a doctor for him.” 

The matter was talked over, and it was decided 
that Dick should go for Doctor Hardwaithe ; Hen, 
who was still sore, should remain with the wounded 
man, and Roger should follow up Captain Rem- 
brandt’s trail. 

Roger felt certain that, now he had been dis- 
covered, the British captain would make straight 
for Charlestown or Boston Neck. He ran down 
the road to Lexington Green, told half a dozen men 
of what had occurred, and then sped over home, 
where he procured a farm-horse, mounting the 
animal with only a potato sack for a saddle. 

The hunt lasted far into the night, but was 
unsuccessful. Captain Rembrandt was shrewd 
enough to keep ouf'of sight as much as possible, 
and passed into Boston by way of the Neck the 
next morning at four o’clock, having bribed a guard 
who was already half Tory. It may be as well to 


OFF FOR THE FRONT. 151 

add here that Deacon Marston also managed to get 
into the besieged town. 

On the following Saturday, Windotte, still suf- 
fering a good deal, was transferred to the British 
hospital at West Cambridge, from which, later on, 
he was removed to Boston, having first sworn to 
keep silent concerning all he might have learned 
about the Continental army and its proposed move- 
ments. To Windotte’s credit, it must be recorded 
that for once he kept his word. His wound did 
not heal rapidly, and in the middle of the summer 
he was returned to England in a relief ship and 
discharged from the king’s service on a pension. 

Darrel Kirk was thought to be too old to be 
punished. Yet there were those in Lexington and 
vicinity who had not forgotten his quarrelsome 
manner in his younger days, and one night they 
surrounded his home, dragged him forth, and threw 
him into a mud-hole down by the brook. His 
cries for mercy were received with jeers, and he 
was told to pack up his belongings and move in- 
side of twenty-four hours. He did so, going to a 
sister who lived at Acton, where, all crippled up 
with rheumatism, he lived to become an even hun- 
dred years old and then died. 

It may well be believed that both Roger and 
Hen were worn out when they returned to the 
Morse homestead. Roger was so sleepy he could 
scarcely keep his eyes open, and the hired man 


152 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

was hungry to the last degree. But food and rest 
could now be had in plenty, and by the opening of 
the first week in June boy and man felt as well as 
ever. 

Many of the minute men and boys who had 
driven the British into Boston had come home on 
furloughs, their places being taken by the fresh 
troops which were arriving almost daily. But dur- 
ing the middle of the next week it was rumoured 
that the enemy was planning some sort of sally 
from Boston, and the order came that all who 
were able should again present themselves at the 
front. 

‘‘That means us,” said Roger to Hen. “Of 
course you’ll go.” 

“ Shall you go.^” asked Mrs. Morse, anxiously. 

Roger looked at his fond parent earnestly. 
“ Mother, if my country needs me, would you have 
me stay away he said. 

“ No, my son ; do your duty. But, oh, be care- 
ful, for I — I cannot spare you and your father, 
too ! ” 

And so it was decided that Roger should leave 
home on the following morning. Dick, Paul, Ben 
and all of the other minute boys were also going. 
Mrs. Morse told Hen he could go likewise, to 
keep an eye on Roger, just as the faithful man 
had done at the battles of Lexington and Con- 
cord. 


OFE FOR THE FRONT. 


153 


It was a warm, misty day when the crowd 
started, eighteen strong, counting all of the boys, 
as well as the old soldiers. Each was armed with 
a new musket, taken from the lot unearthed at 
Uriah BedwelFs house, and each likewise carried 
sixteen rounds of ammunition. All were on foot, 
excepting a certain Lieutenant Dangerfield, who 
had come over from New Hampshire, and who 
accompanied them as far as Charlestown Common, 
the wide stretch of meadow land to the west of 
Charlestown Neck. 

A crowd had gathered to see them march away, 
without a drum it is true, but with everybody 
cheering, and with hats and handkerchiefs wav- 
ing. 

“ Good-bye, boys, God go with you, and bring 
you success ! ” was heard coming from more than 
one good dame or old man. The smaller inhabit- 
ants yelled and whistled, while up at the tavern 
some of those who had been wounded and could 
not go fired a salute from several muskets. 

As they passed the homestead, Roger looked 
back, and so did Hen, and took off their hats. 
Mrs. Morse and Dorothy stood by the gate, both 
with their handkerchiefs to their eyes. To them 
this parting was a sad one. Mrs. Morse spoke the 
sentiment that was in the heart of each. “ Roger 
is so young,” she sobbed. Only a boy ! Oh, I 
trust he returns to us alive and well.” 


154 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

Dorothy said nothing, but strained her eyes to 
watch the soldiers, until at last a turn in the high- 
way hid them from view. Then mother and daugh- 
ter went into the house. It was to be many days 
and weeks before either was to see Roger again. 


CHAPTER XV. 


WORKING ON breed’s HILL BREASTWORKS. 

General Gage, finding himself penned in 
Boston, resolved to do two things without delay, — 
declare martial law, and fortify the Heights of 
Dorchester, a strategic point of land south of Bos- 
ton proper. Reinforcements were coming in, and 
he felt that the rebellion must be crushed without 
further delay. 

The document declaring martial law was very 
arrogantly worded, and angered the colonists 
greatly. The latter were spoken of as rebels and 
traitors, and were called upon to throw down their 
arms and submit to royal authority without further 
discussion. If this was done, all might hope for 
forgiveness, excepting John Hancock and Samuel 
Adams, who were put down as ringleaders, and 
who must submit to condign punishment. Gen- 
eral Gage would have been much better off had 
that document never been penned, for had such 
been the case it is barely possible that peace might 
have been patched up, even though blood upon 
both sides had already been shed. 

155 


156 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

As the Americans paid no attention to his paper 
further than to sneer and jeer at it, he set about 
fortifying Dorchester Heights, and also spoke of 
taking possession of Bunker and Breed’s Hilk, 
then commonly known as Charlestown Heights. 
In the meantime. General Burgoyne and other 
military officers arrived, to take active charge of 
the British forces. General Burgoyne’s manner 
was even worse than that of General Gage. On 
arriving he demanded to know how affairs stood, 
and was told that there were about ten thousand 
colonists besieging the town. 

“ And how many troops have we } ” he con- 
tinued. 

About five thousand at present that are fit for 
regular service.” 

What ! five thousand soldiers of our king being 
shut up by ten thousand miserable peasants ! ” 
stormed Burgoyne. “ Well, let us in and we 
will soon find elbow-room.” He came in, but 
elbow-room ” was not so easily gained, as Bur- 
goyne soon discovered, much to his chagrin. From 
the way the British general used the term, elbow- 
room ” became a common saying throughout the 
entire Revolution in speaking of the troubles a1^ 
Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and other cities 
which the British were forced to abandon. 

The news that the enemy were about to move 
upon Dorchester and Charlestown Heights reached 


WORKING ON BREED'S HILL. I 57 

the American camp, and it was this which caused 
those on furlough to be called again to the front. 
What was going to be done was not definitely 
known, and the American army rested on its guns 
with great anxiety, looking for an attack at any 
moment. 

The colonial committee of safety and the coun- 
cil of war held a meeting, and a committee was 
appointed to see what was best to be done. The 
committee recommended that breastworks and re- 
doubts be constructed at Prospect Hill, Winter 
Hill, Bunker Hill, and several other points. So 
far the only fortifications erected by the Ameri- 
cans had been a small earthworks at Cambridge. 

Gage had fixed upon the night of June the 
eighteenth to advance upon Dorchester Heights 
and take possession. News of this intended 
movement reached the American camp five or 
six days before. Immediately all the regiments 
were ordered to hold themselves in readiness to 
march or to fight, as occasion might require. 
Then came a secret order to fortify Bunker Hill 
without further delay, with men sufficient to 
hold it, and with large cannon, to sweep the bay 
upon both sides.” 

Charlestown, at this period, was a peninsula 
about a mile long and half a mile wide, lying 
nearly to the north of Boston. On the eastern 
shore the Medford, or Mystic, River came down 


158 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

into the harbour, and on the western side was the 
Charles River. The shape of the peninsula was 
not unlike a fat pear, and the stem would represent 
the Neck, to the northwest, where it was joined 
to the mainland at the Common, previously men- 
tioned. The land at the Neck was low and at 
very high tides was completely submerged. 

The town of Charlestown lay directly opposite 
Boston, on the southern slope of the peninsula. 
To the north were several rises of ground, that 
on the eastern extremity being known as Moulton’s 
Point, followed by Breed’s Hill, seventy-five feet 
high, and Bunker Hill, a hundred and ten feet 
high. On the northeast side of the hills the 
ground was clayey and full of dangerous water- 
holes, and was used for nothing but clay-pits and 
brick-kilns. On the southwestern slope were 
pastures and rich orchards, and through these ran 
Main Street, running from the ferry in Charles- 
town to the Neck and having upon it a hand- 
ful of houses and scattered places of business. 
Charlestown proper numbered several hundred 
homes. 

The expedition to Bunker Hill was placed under 
the command of Col. William Prescott, and num- 
bered about twelve hundred men. It was gath- 
ered upon Cambridge Common, portions of several 
different commands being selected for the work. 
At first the minute boys of Lexington were afraid 


WORKING ON BREEDER BILE 


159 


they would be left behind, but at the last moment 
one of the captains came along and said they 
might take part, if they did not think the risk was 
too great. 

“We are to work as secretly as possible,” he 
said. “ If the enemy discover us we may be 
killed to a man.” 

“ I am willing to take the risk,” said Roger. 
“ I came to the front to do or die for our colonies, 
as Heaven may see best.” Of course the faithful 
Hen went with “his boys,” as he now termed 
them. 

It was evening when the command assembled 
upon Cambridge Common. All felt the responsi- 
bility of the undertaking, and the worthy president 
of Harvard College was asked to address the 
soldiers and pray for them, which he did most 
fervently. 

“ Forward march ! ” came the command, at nine 
o’clock, and silently the companies moved forward 
for Charlestown Neck, two sergeants with dark 
lanterns at the head, to give warning if any pit- 
falls appeared. Behind the sergeants came Colonel 
Prescott, modestly arrayed in a blue coat and three 
cornered hat. Regulation uniforms for officers 
and men were not forthcoming for our entire army 
until Washington took command and began his 
work of reorganisation. 

“ We’re off at last ! ” whispered Dick to Roger. 


l60 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

I think we’ll see some fun before we get 
back.” 

“ Perhaps we’ll see more than we wish, Dick,” 
was the grim response. “ Remember, this is no 
merrymaking party.” 

“ This is an uncommonly heavy load to carry,” 
put in Ben Small, who was struggling along with 
his musket over one shoulder and a crowbar and 
a pick over the other. 

“Don’t worry, Ben,” said Roger. “I am no 
better off, with this spade, which I’ll warrant is 
twice as heavy as any we’ve got at home.” 

“ It would be all right if our muskets weren’t 
so awfully heavy,” put in Dick. “ This new one 
weighs exactly nineteen pounds. I understand 
the Tower guns the British have weigh only 
fourteen or fifteen pounds.” 

“ Some of ’em air even lighter,” came from Hen, 
who strode along with musket, spade, and several 
other things useful for entrenching. “ But look 
here, lads, ef any of ye air sick o’ this undertakin’ 
why don’t ye quit right now 1 I reckon the colonel 
will let ye off, seein’ ez how ye ain’t none o’ ye 
o’ age, and — ” 

“ Back out ! ” came from all. “ Not much. Hen ! 
We’re in this to stay ! ” And that was the last of 
the grumbling. At the Neck several carts came 
up, and the tools were thrown into these, much to 
the lads’ relief. 


WORKING ON BREED'S HILL, l6l 

“ Now, men, all of you must remain strictly 
silent,” came the order. “ If anything must be 
said, say it in a whisper, for the British spies are 
everywhere. Picket-guards will be thrown out, 
and if an alarm comes, drop whatever tools you 
may have in hand and form in company ranks 
with your muskets.” 

Following instructions. Captain Nutting with 
his men was ordered down Main Street to the 
town proper as a guard. Then the regular body 
of the troops took their way up the road leading 
to the top of Bunker Hill. The way was dark 
and uncertain, and all had to move with caution, 
for fear of falling into some ambush, for since the 
Americans had heard of Gage’s plans all argued 
that the British might likewise have heard of 
what they were going to do. 

“ There may be two or three thousand redcoats 
waiting for us up there,” said one officer, pointing 
along the hill slopes. “ Have your flints ready, 
boys.” 

Yet that night but one alarm came, and that of 
no importance^ as was afterward ascertained. A 
man was found lying behind a tree and was taken 
to be a spy. When discovered, he acted as if he 
were intoxicated. The officers would not believe 
this, shook him vigorously, and at last gave him a 
pailful of cold water over his head. This revived 
the fellow a bit, and he told where he belonged 


1 62 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

in Charlestown. The case was investigated and 
it was learned that the man was a confirmed 
drunkard, and harmless. 

At last the top of Bunker Hill was gained, and 
here a halt was called. The chief engineer of 
the party was Colonel Gridley, a veteran of much 
experience. The ground was looked over, and 
Gridley came to the conclusion that it would be 
better to place the outworks on Breed’s Hill, 
somewhat closer to Boston. 

“ But the main work must be at Bunker Hill,” 
said another of the party. “ That is the instruc- 
tions.” 

A long discussion followed, but in the end the 
first redoubt was placed on the slope of Breed’s 
Hill, within twelve hundred yards of the Boston 
batteries and still closer to the Lively^ Falcon^ 
Somerset and other British war-vessels lying in 
the harbour. 

To work, lads, and waste not a moment,” cried 
Colonel Prescott, after the engineering corps had 
staked out the ground and explained just what 
was to be done. 

We’ll dig as we never dug before ! ” cried 
Sandy Beane, a well-digger from Connecticut, who 
had been placed in charge of one of the entrench- 
ing parties. “ Along this line first, men, and then 
that line, and heap the dirt up well along this 
bank. We’ll make a breastworks the redcoats 


WORKING ON BREED^S HILL. 163 

will have a fine shindy getting to,” and down came 
Beane’s pick ; and the work started. 

With so many hands, and among boys and men 
who had used picks and shovels from childhood, 
the work advanced rapidly. The ofificers stalked 
around here and there, with their lanterns, watch- 
ing proceedings and giving directions, and some 
even went to work themselves in the trenches. 
Colonel Prescott, expecting hot work, wore a linen 
banian, or frock, in place of his former blue coat, 
and daylight found him still with this linen outfit, 
worn all through the famous battle now so close 
at hand. 

The protection for the soldiers consisted of a 
redoubt about eight rods square, and a breast- 
works over four hundred feet long, the former 
facing Main Street and the latter running over 
the slopes toward the Mystic River. It was the 
intention to make the breastworks longer, but 
the coming of daylight brought the labours of 
the soldiers to an end. 

That night in the trenches was one Roger 
never forgot. Working like a beaver in silence, 
with guns close at hand, the men threw up dirt 
and stones, and packed them down. It was a 
clear starlit night, and it seemed impossible that 
the British would not discover what was going on. 
Down by the water’s edge, the war-ships were 
almost in sight, and from the British guard on the 


164 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL, 

Charlestown shore Colonel Prescott heard the cry, 
Alf’s well ! ” as fresh pickets came on to relieve 
the old. 

Four o’clock came, and now in the east could 
be seen the first faint light of the coming sun. 
“ We’ll have to quit soon ! ” was the word passed 
around, but still the soldiers kept at work, putting 
the finishing touches to this point and that. They 
had had a single ration dealt out to them on leav- 
ing Cambridge, and now this was hastily des- 
patched, along with large quantities of water, for 
the coming day promised to be exceedingly warm. 

At last the sun came up, and, to the astonished 
gaze of the British, they saw the American de- 
fences reared up proudly where the day before 
only peaceful pastures had lain. For awhile they 
could not believe their eyesight. There must be 
some mistake, they told each other. Would those 
rebels and traitors dare to be so bold ? 

The first discovery of the entrenchments was 
made by a watcher on the British ship Lively , 
that lay but a short distance off the Charlestown 
shore. At once all was hubbub and excitement. 
The captain of the vessel came on deck and took 
in the situation in speechless amazement, then 
ordered a broadside to be fired at the workers 
that still remained in view. The broadside was 
speedily forthcoming, and this was really the open- 
ing of the famous battle of Bunker Hill. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE BOMBARDMENT FROM THE WAR - SHIPS. 

Boom ! 

Loud and clear over the waters of the harbour, 
over Boston itself, and over the outlying territory 
rang the first broadside of the Lively ^ sending 
a rain of lead before and over the American 
defences. 

“ We’re discovered now, thet’s sartin ! ” burst 
out Hen, as he dropped the shovel with which he 
had been working and seized his musket. ‘‘Gosh 
all hemlock, listen tew thet ! ” 

Again came a broadside, speedily taken up by 
the Falcon^ Somerset^ and other vessels, and 
from a battery on Copp’s Hill in Boston. Spop ! 
the cannon-balls hit the earthworks and sank out 
of sight. Spop ! spop ! they kept coming on 
steadily. 

“They have our range ! ” exclaimed Roger, who 
had also picked up his musket. “ They can reach 
us even if we can’t reach them — yet.” 

“ Don’t leave the work, boys ! ” came the cry. 
“ We must finish before they send on an attacking 
165 


1 66 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

party. Be careful of what you do, but don’t tarry 
in your labours.” 

At first the men had been dismayed, but now, 
the first excitement over, they stacked their weap- 
ons once more and seized their tools. Soon the 
work on the defences was going on as calmly as 
though the shades of night were still protecting 
them. But it was hot work, for the sun had come 
up clear and strong, and all dripped with perspi- 
ration. 

“I’m not afraid of ’em,” cried a soldier from 
Billerica named Asa Pollard. “ I’ll go outside and 
finish up,” and he leaped over the earthworks at a 
single bound. 

“Better come back here,” roared Hen. “There 
might something hap — ” 

Another broadside from one of the war-vessels 
swallowed up the remainder of his speech. Spop ! 
spop ! came the balls. Then followed a silence. 

“ How do ye like thet, Pollard ? ” cried a fellow 
soldier standing beside Roger. No reply came 
back, and the man stretched up to look over the 
breastworks. Then he gave a hoarse yell. “ He’s 
dead! He’s dead I ” 

Instantly a score mounted the breastworks, for- 
getting all about their own danger. Yes, Pollard 
was dead, a cannon-ball having mangled him fright- 
fully. Soon the report circulated, and those who 
had exposed themselves ran hastily for shelter. 


THE BOMBARDMENT. 


167 


‘‘It’s tew bad,” said Hen, his honest face full 
of sorrow. “ Poor Pollard, the fust tew go down. 
Wall, I reckon he won’t be the last, not by a good 
many. I feel it in my bones thet we have a bloody 
day’s work afore us.” 

Pollard was well beloved by the other members 
of Stickney’s company, to which he belonged, and 
his friends insisted on taking his body in and 
giving it decent burial. 

“ But we haven’t time for any religious services,” 
said some of the officers. 

“Then we’ll take time,” was the reply of those 
men whose faith was uppermost even in these hours 
of peril. A clergyman, the Rev. John Martin, 
was present, and he performed the burial ceremony 
while several hundred looked on. Later in the 
day this same clergyman threw aside his church 
dignity, buckled on a sword, and fought as bravely 
as anybody. 

The taking off of Asa Pollard made some of the 
volunteers falter, especially those who had taken 
no part in the battles of Lexington and Concord, 
and had heretofore seen no bloodshed. Some were 
for retiring, but the others urged them to re- 
main. 

“ Don’t turn tail, boys, don’t ! ” came the cry. 
“ We’ll wax old Gage, never fear ! ” 

Seeing how affairs were turning. Colonel Pres- 
cott threw off his three-cornered-hat, and, bare- 


1 68 I HE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

headed, mounted to the top of the earthworks, 
sword in hand. 

“Fellow soldiers, we came here to show the 
British what we intend to do,” he said. “ Here 
we remain. We are safe, and a most glorious 
victory awaits us. I will lead you, no matter what 
comes. Won’t you follow me t ” 

“We will! we will! Hurrah for Prescott!” 
came the rallying cry, and those on the point of 
departing turned back ; and the work on the 
defences was renewed. 

Colonel Prescott’s bravery in thus showing him- 
self brought about a very curious result. In Boston, 
General Gage had taken himself to a hill and was 
viewing the scene through a telescope, while a 
dozen others stood silently by wondering what the 
commander would do. 

“ Who is that officer commanding ? ” demanded 
the general, handing his glass to one of the gentle- 
men, a lawyer named Willard. The lawyer gave 
a careful look. 

“That, sir, is my brother-in-law. Colonel Pres- 
cott,” was the astonishing reply. 

“ Indeed ! ” cried Gage. “ And will he fight ? ” 

“Yes, sir, depend upon it, to the last drop of 
blood in him.” 

“ And what of the men under him ? ” continued 
the discomfited British commander. 

“ I cannot answer for his men,” was the guarded 



“ COLONEL PRESCOTT MOUNTED TO THE TOP OF THE 
EARTHWORKS, SWORD IN HAND.” 






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THE BOMBARDMENT. lyi 

answer ; but Willard knew that the minute men 
would fight to the bitter end. General Gage 
turned away, shaking his head doubtfully. 

Without delay the British held a council of war. 
The Americans had stolen a march upon them, 
and should they be permitted to fortify Breed’s 
Hill and Bunker Hill with cannon, Boston would 
be completely at their mercy. ‘‘We must send 
them a-flying,” was the general conclusion reached. 
But how ? was the all-important question. Many 
remembered the disaster attendant upon the expe- 
dition to Concord only too well, and felt they must 
be cautious. 

A number of the officers voted to take a strong 
command to Charlestown Neck and effect a landing 
under the protection of the war-ships and floating 
batteries. This done, they would drive the enemy 
from the rear into Charlestown or over to Moul- 
ton’s Point, and there compel them to surrender 
or cut them to pieces. 

But Gage overruled this plan. “ T/iej/ may do a 
little of the driving,” said he. “And if so, our 
soldiers will be caught between those now on 
Bunker Hill and those who may put in a forced 
march from Cambridge. If our companies be 
caught on the Neck nothing can save them from 
being either shot or drowned.” 

And so it was decided that the American forces 
should be attacked from the front, the landing 


172 THE MINUTE, BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

of the British soldiers to take place as soon as 
possible on and around Moulton Point. Without 
delay the Falcon was sent around to the Point to 
clear it with grape, round, and chain shot. 

On Bunker and Breed’s Hills the work was not 
yet finished. In several spots were rail fences, 
and one of these was pulled up and piled against 
another, and over the whole was packed a lot of 
hay which lay in some of the pastures drying. 
Some of my young readers may laugh at such 
a defence, but let me state that ofttimes a soft 
substance like hay will stop a bullet or a can- 
non-ball which would easily pierce something 
harder. In the great Civil Wai:, bales of Cotton 
were found to be better in many cases than blocks 
of granite would have been. 

The sun was now scorching and water was 
scarce. Many of the soldiers, who had come in 
from a long distance, and who had worked all 
through the night, could scarcely keep their eyes 
open. 

/‘We must have water, food, and reinforcements,” 
said Colonel Prescott, and sent off for them. 
General Putnam also demanded that additional 
troops be forthcoming. 

But General Ward hesitated about sending more 
soldiers over the Neck, fearing he would weaken 
the guard held back to defend Cambridge an^ 
Watertown. “All of our scanty military stores 


THE BOMBARDMENT. 1 73 

are housed at those points,” he declared. “What 
if Gage should not attack Bunker Hill at all, but 
come over directly to the mainland } ” However, 
at eleven o'clock General Ward changed his mind, 
and sent over the New Hampshire troops, under 
Colonels Reed and Stark. Each man of these 
companies received two flints, a gill of powder, 
and fifteen balls, the latter of various sizes, so that 
the soldiers had to beat them into shape to fit the 
calibre of their guns when putting up their home- 
made cartridges. What a difference between such 
rude supplies and those dealt out to the soldier 
of to-day ! 

Slowly the forenoon wore away on Breed’s Hill. 
Some soldiers had been sent back to begin the 
work on Bunker Hill proper, but our minute boys 
and Hen were not among them. A few rations 
and some water was supplied and disappeared like 
magic. Roger, Dick, and their friends were “dead 
played out,” as Ben put it, but the excitement kept 
them wide awake. At last the reinforcements 
were seen approaching, and a cheer went up. 

The cannonading now became more terrific than 
ever, a flood tide having enabled the British to float 
several batteries close to the Charlestown shore. 
This terrorised the few inhabitants remaining in 
the town and they fled, leaving not a soul in the 
^lace. At the same time the minute men sent down 
Main Street joined the other American forces. 


174 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

“ Will they attack us ? ” Such was the question 
asked a hundred times during that hot June 
morning. With their telescopes, the officers 
could plainly see the British soldiers, on foot 
and on horseback, marching around the streets 
of Boston. In the meantime many barges were 
being collected at Long Wharf and at the North 
Battery. This showed that the redcoats were 
coming out. But to where ? 

“ Ef they come here, we’ll have our hands full, 
b’gosh ! ” observed Hen, who was building a plat- 
form of stones, upon which the minute boys might 
stand and fire at the enemy should an engagement 
come. But ef they move over to Cambridge or 
Chelsea then I reckon sum other folks will have 
their hands full. I must confess I’m gittin’ 
mighty anxious.” 

The anxiety was shared by Colonel Prescott, 
General Putnam, and General Warren, who had 
arisen from his bed suffering from a nervous head- 
ache. The worthy doctor was urged not to expose 
himself at Bunker Hill, but he answered that he 
felt it his duty to go to the front, come what 
might. And to the front he went, where he was 
immediately recognised as the leader, although he 
refused to take the military command from Pres- 
cott. As to who actually led on that memorable 
day, it may be as well to let the matter rest by 
stating that all of the officers worked together, 


THE BOMBARDMENT. 


175 


and that Warren’s glory, great as it was, hardly 
outshines that of Prescott, Putnam, and a dozen 
others ; nor does it outshine the glories due the 
militia and the minute boys and men, who fought 
as only those can fight whose hearts and souls are 
in the battle. 

At last came a cry that aroused everybody. 
“ They are putting off ! The British are embark- 
ing ! ” In a trice every man and boy was striving 
to gain some point from which to get a good view. 
‘‘ Are they moving yet } Which way are they 
heading } ” 

Then came a few more minutes of suspense. 
The barges at Long Wharf were filling slowly, but 
at last they were full, and the first of them shot 
out into the harbour and into the strong sunlight, 
that reflected vividly the scarlet uniforms, the 
shining muskets and the glittering bayonets. 
Slowly the boats moved on with their living 
freight, slowly and cautiously up past the North 
Battery and the shipyards. They then headed 
straight for Moulton’s Point. Now the suspense 
ended, and those on the hills behind Charlestown 
knew that a bloody battle was but a question of a 
few hours. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE OPENING OF THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 

“ They are coming over here, Dick ! ” 

“ So they are, Roger, — and that means warm 
work for us.” 

“ Warm work ! ” broke in Paul Darly. Great 
Christopher Columbus ! it’s warm enough up here 
without doing anything. I’d give two shillings for 
an ice-cold drink from our well at home.” 

** Don’t mention it,” exclaimed Ben. “ But when 
we get to fighting I reckon we’ll forget all about 
feeling dry, or being hungry.” 

He had scarcely spoken when the cannonading 
from the British ships, which had slackened up, 
broke out again, and grape-shot raked Moulton’s 
Point and Morton’s Hill, a slight eminence behind it. 

“Thirty-two barges full of soldiers,” cried an 
officer, who had a glass, “and the leading boats 
mount several guns.” 

“Why don’t the reinforcements come,” growled 
another. “Are we to be left here all alone to be 
slain ? 

“ Slain ? ” shouted Colonel Prescott, who over- 
heard the remark. “ Don’t think of it, man. We 
176 


THE OPENING OF THE BATTLE. 


177 


have the best of it, and if they dare to approach 
this hill they will suffer bitter defeat. The rein- 
forcements will arrive in due time. Doctor War- 
ren has promised them within twenty minutes.” 
This was true, the zealous doctor had promised the 
soldiers, but he could not move the regiments 
alone, and, through various delays and mistakes, a 
large number of the reinforcements failed to arrive 
in time to do much good. 

General Howe was in command of the attacking 
party, which numbered about two thousand grena- 
diers and light infantry and a small force of artil- 
lery. The men carried several days’ rations and 
were heavily loaded with their outfits, these out- 
fits in some instances weighing a hundred pounds ! 
The folly of making men carry such loads in hot 
weather showed itself fully before the fiery sun 
went down. 

The embarkation had taken place about noon, 
and at one o’clock the first of the barges landed at 
Moulton’s Point, now occupied by the Boston Navy 
Yard, and the redcoats came ashore and planted 
their artillery to the best advantage. Forming 
his command into three lines. General Howe 
reconnoitred the American position. 

It is strong, — we need more men before we 
can take it,” he said, and immediately sent back 
to Gage for additional troops. 

The American troops could do nothing, their 


1 78 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

cannon being still on the other side of Bunker 
Hill, to prevent a possible landing on the north 
shore. From their breastworks they viewed the 
landing in silence, but held their muskets in readi- 
ness to use the moment the enemy came close 
enough. 

Wall, ef thet ain’t gall ! ” burst from Hen, 
presently. “ By gum ! ef only I had a cannon 
here now ! ”, 

“What is wrong.?” questioned Roger. 

“Them boats is goin’ back, an’ hang me ef 
them air Britishers ain’t squattin’ in the grass 
and eatin’ their dinners, an’ us poor hungry mor- 
tals ain’t got a mouthful ! ” Hen’s report was 
true, the redcoats were taking advantage of the 
halt to dine, — to many a poor fellow his last meal 
on earth. 

Slowly the minutes passed from one to three 
o’clock, and still the British troops rested where 
they had landed. But now their reinforcements 
put into appearance, landing and moving straight 
for the redoubt. Various authorities state the 
soldiers to have numbered from twenty-eight to 
thirty-two hundred. 

The firing from the British ships of war was 
now heavier than ever, it being intended that this 
should cover up the advance of the grenadiers and 
light infantry. The field-pieces also spoke up, 
and our artillery replied as best it could, which 


THE OPENING OF THE BATTLE. 1 79 

was but feebly. Several times the American can- 
nons were changed from one position to another, 
but the service rendered, meant to be well, 
amounted to but little, for powder and ball were 
scarce, and trained gunners were even scarcer. 

“They are coming ! ” Such was the cry which 
rang throughout the American lines stretching 
from the redoubt to the breastworks and on to the 
rail fence. It was true, the redcoats were coming 
forward in two wings, the right under General 
Howe to pierce the colonists’ line at the rail fence, 
and the left, under General Pigot, to assault the 
breastworks and the redoubt. 

The oncoming was certainly calculated to cause 
the raw American troops to falter. Here was com- 
pany after company of well-trained soldiery march- 
ing forward swiftly, regardless of the heavy outfits 
and the boiling hot sun. Each shining Tower 
musket could be distinctly seen, and the ugly- 
looking bayonets were enough to cause many a 
heart to shudder. “ We can’t stand against 
’em,” muttered more than one minute man. 
“ We must I ” was the invariable answer. 
“ Remember Lexington and Concord, and give 
it to ’em hot ! ” 

General Putnam was now in his element, and 
tore around on his horse, here, there, and every- 
where. “ Powder is scarce and must not be 
wasted,” he cried out. “ Don’t fire at the enemy 


l8o THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

until you can see the whites of their eyes. Fire 
low, take aim at their waistbands. You are all 
marksmen, can hit a squirrel at a hundred 
yards ; reserve your fire and the enemy will be 
destroyed. Aim at the handsome coats, pick off 
the commanders.” 

“We will! we will I Hurrah fer Old Put I ” came 
the answering cry. Putnam’s orders were re- 
peated by Prescott, Pomeroy, Reed, and others who 
understood their value, and as a consequence, 
although a few sharpshooters could not resist the 
temptation to shoot as soon as the British came 
into range, the majority waited until their aim 
Could become a certainty. 

“ Now fer it, boys, do yer duty, every mother’s 
son on ye 1 ” yelled Hen, who stood up between 
Roger and Dick. “ Air yer muskets all right } ” 

“ Mine is,” said Roger. He was almost too 
excited to speak. 

“ So is mine,” came from Dick, and the others 
also answered in the affirmative. 

Up and up came the long British line, scarlet 
and steel flashing defiantly, the tall hats of the 
grenadiers coming closer and closer. Here and 
there from the American lines a musket-shot rang 
out, but otherwise there was almost a death-like 
silence. Roger’s heart was in his throat, and beat 
like a trip-hammer. Former contests had been 
bad enough, yet it needed no experienced eye to 


THE OPENING OF THE BATTLE, iSl 

tell that that which was to come would be infinitely 
worse. 

“ Remember, the whites of their eyes ! ” cried 
the captain in command. “ Aim low, make every 
bullet tell. Pick off the man straight ahead of 
you, and let your neighbour take the next fel- 
low. All ready now — wait just a minute longer. 
Take careful aim — wait — wait — steady now, 
steady. Now, then — give it to ’em!” 

Crack ! spat I crack ! bang I spoke up the mus- 
kets of the hasty ones, and then followed a long, 
sullen rattle and a roar, as the first line opened 
fire. With them the officers also fired, each of 
them having picked up a musket somewhere. 

When the thick smoke cleared away, the effect 
of that opening volley was seen in all of its hor- 
ror. Nearly the entire front rank of the British 
had been cut down, and the dead and dying lay 
in every direction. 

I brought him down,” muttered Hen. “ I 
knew I could do it ! Will call us rebels, eh } Well, 
mebbe, an’ glad of it, b’gosh ! ” The tall Ver- 
monter had aimed at a leading officer, and his 
messenger of death had reached its mark. 

Not far away stood a sharpshooter on a small 
wooden stand which he and others had built. He 
was the best marksman along the breastworks, 
and as soon as he had discharged one musket 
another was handed to him. In this manner he 


1 82 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

succeeded in bringing down a dozen or more 
British leaders. But some equally good marks- 
man of the Royal Welsh Fusileers saw him, and 
laid him low without warning. 

The enemy had had to climb over numerous 
fences, for both Bunker and Breed’s Hills were 
cut up into pasture lots, owned by the house- 
holders of Charlestown. These, added to their 
heavy burdens, made their progress slow, and 
now that galling first fire caused them to pause. 
Of course they fired in return, but the Americans 
were well protected, and hardly a man was in- 
jured. 

A second rush was now made, and then another 
and another. But the success at the opening stim- 
ulated the Americans, and, growing bolder, they 
appeared at the level of the breastworks, and sent 
in volley after volley, against which the British 
found it impossible to stand. A company would 
come up, only to lose a half or three-quarters of 
their men. “We cannot take the works, — it is 
a sheer impossibility,” cried some of the under 
officers, and at last General Bigot was forced to 
withdraw his wing out of gunshot. 

A wild cheering went up. “They are retreat- 
ing ! They are retreating ! ” Then Yankee Doodle 
burst forth with vigour. In the past the English 
had tantalised the colonists with that air ; now it 
was hurled back at them in defiance, and was 


THE OPENING OF THE BATTLE. 1 83 

henceforth to become what it is to us all to- 
day. 

The other wing of the enemy was also demoral- 
ised for the time being, and Howe withdrew to 
join Pigot, and rearrange his plans. This gave 
the Americans a breathing spell, of which they 
were glad to avail themselves. 

Look, look ! ” cried Roger, as he gazed toward 
Charlestown. ‘‘ What a black smoke 1 ” 

“ The town is on fire ! ” came the cry from 
another quarter. “ See, half a dozen houses are 
in flames.” 

^‘And so is the church,” put in Dick, as the 
flames suddenly burst forth from the tall steeple. 

That is too bad ! ” 

‘^Who knows but what Boston will go down 
before this battle is over!” said Paul. “When a 
fight begins, there is no telling when it will end.” 

All watched the progress of the conflagration 
with interest. It had been started from a carcass 
thrown from one of the war-ships. This set fire to 
a barn, a second caught on a house, and in five 
minutes the wind had done its work in the deserted 
town, although presently a party from the Somer- 
set came ashore to finish the destruction. 

As the flames mounted higher and higher, so 
did the indignation of the colonists. “ If they 
cannot capture, they intend to destroy ! ” was the 
thought that ran around, and General Putnam and 


1 84 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Others rushed off upon horseback to hurry along 
the reinforcements. Some of these oncoming 
troops were found bunched on Charlestown Com- 
mon, afraid to pass the Neck, which was being 
swept by a heavy fire from the frigate Glasgow. 
In vain Putnam rode back and forth on the Neck 
to show how they could pass unharmed. ‘‘You’re 
bullet-proof, general,” was the cry. “We ain’t, 
nohow ! ” The firing at the Neck grew heavier, 
and only a small portion of the foot-soldiery ven- 
tured across. One company tried to build a raft 
to float on the north side of the causeway, but 
this went to pieces, leaving some thirty men 
floundering in the mud. 

The sun still poured down hotly and the air 
was suffocating. “Water, give us water if you 
want us to fight ! ” was the appeal, but water was 
scarce, and when a pailful came up, it had to do 
for an entire company. In the meantime the 
wounded were carried back and cared for as ten- 
derly as circumstances permitted. Thus far all of 
the minute boys had escaped injury, although one 
lad had sprained his ankle through slipping from a 
heap of stones while firing his heavy musket. 

Down in front of the defences the scene was 
truly horrible. In the glare of the afternoon sun 
lay the British dead, with the wounded and dying 
crawling over them, crying piteously for aid, — a 
fearful scene that made Roger close his eyes to 


THE OPENING OE THE BATTLE. 1 85 

keep from fainting. “ If only we could do some- 
thing for them ! ” he murmured, but this was not 
to be. 

“They are coming on again, men!” was the 
cry. “ To your posts, and keep your wits about 
you. Don’t dare to fire at more than a hundred 
yards, and you had better make it eighty. They 
can’t take this place if all of you do your duty.” 

And then came a second charge in all of its 
wild and never-to-be-forgotten fury. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE STORMING OF THE REDOUBT. 

The slaughter upon the British side had been 
so terrible that, on retreating, some of the red- 
coats had gone to their boats with the intention 
of returning to Boston. But Howe, still calm and 
still confident of ultimate success, stopped such 
a proceeding, and presently the arrival of a few 
reinforcements calmed the spirits of those who 
had faced the Americans’ line of fire, and knew 
its deadly effects. 

“ We must take the hill, — be the cost what it 
may ! ” was the rallying cry, but though the gren- 
adiers and light infantry prepared to advance a 
second time, their hearts were not so much in the 
work as they had been earlier in the day. They 
were beginning to respect those raw peasants at 
whom they had previously scoffed. 

The fire in Charlestown was now at its height, 
and the wind carried the smoke and burning em- 
bers in all directions. From the war-vessels and 
the floating batteries, as well as from the cannon 
on Copp’s Hill, and from the pieces with the 
1 86 


The storming of the redoubt 187 

British army, came a most terrific bombardment, 
making a scene that was awful beyond descrip- 
tion. And from a distance thousands of specta- 
tors viewed the scene, — colonists hoping almost 
against hope that their boys and men would come 
out victorious, and Tories, British reserves, and 
English wives of redcoats anxious, but still unwill- 
ing to believe but that this day would bring a 
crushing defeat to all of those who dared oppose 
the regal will of George III, 

Amid the smoke and the screaming of shot and 
shell, the British troops advanced a second time, 
Howe at their head, filling not only his own posi- 
tion, but doing the duty of half a dozen fellow 
officers, who had been cut down in that first 
assault. Steady, men, steady ! ” he called out. 

Remember what you are, — remember what our 
noble king expects of you. This is the day when 
heroes are to be made ! ” And with a loud rally- 
ing cry, grenadiers and infantry pushed on, over 
the fences, through the tall grass, in some places 
trampled down into a slippery paste, leaping over 
the bodies of their countless slain, and not even 
pausing to carry to the rear those wounded who 
were crying so piteously for assistance. ‘‘We 
must take the hill first!” was the cry. “The 
hill first, — other things must wait,” and they 
moved on. 

The Americans were highly excited, for the 


1 88 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

first retreat of the enemy had given them the im- 
pression that victory was'within their grasp. Some 
had even leaped over the breastworks to go in 
pursuit, but had been called back by those in 
command, who knew how foolhardy such a move- 
ment would prove. “ Here we are, and here we 
will stay,” said Colonel Prescott. 

“ Yes, we have a good thing here,” said General 
Warren, who was now serving with a musket. 
“ Let us keep it.” 

The straight line of scarlet coats was not over 
eight rods away when the order came to fire. In- 
stantly a strong volley rang out, and, as the long 
flashes of fire died away, that advancing line was 
seen to stagger and break up, two men out of 
every four falling headlong. 

‘‘ Load ! load ! as quickly as you can ! ” came 
the cry from the captain under whom the minute 
boys were serving. Down they go, like grass 
before the scythe ! We’ll have ’em on the run 
again in another minute ! ” 

Bang ! crack ! bang ! the British had opened, 
but, as before, the aim was either too high or too 
low, and the bullets flew up into the air or buried 
themselves in the dirt of the breastworks or the 
grass at the rail fence. To be sure, a few of 
the colonists were hit, but the number was nothing 
in comparison to those struck down outside. 

Roger was loading and firing as never before. 


THE STORMING OF THE REDOUBT. 1 89 

He had his coat off, and the perspiration was 
pouring from him in streams. Everybody, wounded 
and well, was calling for water, but now none was 
to be had, excepting it be brought from the Neck, 
and not a man could be spared to fetch it. 

‘‘Talk about Concord and Lexington,” gasped 
Dick. “They weren’t a circumstance to this.” 

“Thar’s another officer,” put in Hen. “ Roger, 
lend me thet flintlock a minit.” The musket was 
forthcoming, the Vermonter rested the muzzle on 
the dirt, took careful aim, and pulled trigger, — 
and down went the officer flat upon one of his 
men, already dead. Right or wrong, the colonists 
did all they could to pick off those in command 
on this historic day. 

The British were serving up their troops, one 
company after another, at both the breastworks 
and at the rail fence. The execution was fearful, 
yet General Howe would not allow a retreat to be 
sounded. “ Once again ! Only once again ! ” he 
would cry. “ I am with you, come on ! ” and he 
would dash to the front. Already twelve of his 
officers had been laid low, yet this gallant com- 
mander seemed to bear a charmed life. 

The British artillery had come closer, extra 
horses being attached to the cannon to drag them 
through the soft meadows, and now they opened 
up nearly on a line with the breastworks, doing 
considerable execution. Roger was just reloading 


1 90 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

his musket, when there came a loud report, and 
two men behind him pitched forward lifeless. As 
he gazed at them, he, too, fell prostrate. 

“ Roger, Roger, are you wounded ? ” It was 
the voice of Hen, who had thrown down his gun 
and rushed to his young master’s assistance. 

Where are ye hit ? ” 

uj — I’m all — right,” came in a gasp. “The 
— the cannon-ball — took the wind out of — me ! ” 

“ By gum ! Thet’s gettin’ it putty close, lad ! ” 

“I suppose it is.” Roger sat up. “Go on 
and — fight. I’ll be all right in a — few — min- 
utes.” And he was, but when he came up to the 
firing line again he was as white as a sheet, and 
his face wore a more sober look than it had for 
a long while past. 

In a moment more the British came on ahead, 
savagely, for the slaughter nerved them for the 
encounter. Up and up they came, until it looked 
as if they must pour over the breastworks and 
the rail fence by sheer force of number and will 
power. It was a magnificent onslaught, yet it 
availed nothing, for again and again the deadly 
American volleys rang out, until the dead and 
dying on the slopes beyond the defences barred 
the progress of the troops that were trying to 
advance from the rear. 

“ Once more ! ” rang out from Howe. “ Only 
once more, my gallant men ! ” but alas ! brave as 


THE STORMING OF THE REDOUBT 191 

was this man, there were none left to listen to him 
now, for his troops were retreating, and could not 
be stopped. Pell-mell they ran down the hillside 
and over the fences, straight for their boats. They 
had had enough, — they would not go back, many 
told each other. 

What a cheering arose from the American lines ! 
“ We’ve whipped ’em ! See ’em run ! What do 
you think of Yankee Doodle now.^*” And then 
that tune was taken up everywhere, while some 
of the exhausted men fairly danced jigs of joy. 
At that moment it certainly looked as if the bat- 
tle of Bunker Hill had come to an end, with total 
victory upon the American side. 

Is it really over t ” asked Roger, sitting down 
in a circle that the minute boys and Hen oc- 
cupied. 

It’s over fer them poor critters ez lays out 
yonder,” returned Hen. “ I reckon there must be 
nigh on to five hundred of ’em mowed down.” 

“ We lost some men, too, — in that last fire 
from the redcoats and the artillery,” answered 
Roger. “ Look, they are carrying at least fifty 
back ! ” 

My powder has given out ! ” cried Dick, on 
making an examination of his horn. “ I thought 
I had enough left for three cartridges ! ” 

I have but three cartridges left,” announced 
Roger. A general examination showed that every 


192 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

man and boy was running short of ammunition. 
At once Colonel Prescott was appealed to. 

“You mustn’t waste a kernel, men,” was Pres- 
cott’s answer. “ I will give you all I have.” All 
that could be scraped up were a few artillery 
cartridges, and these were opened and the powder 
dealt around as though it were more precious 
than gold. 

A long wait ensued, — so long that the Ameri- 
cans half suspected that the British really intended 
to depart and leave their dead and dying behind. 
But such was not the case. 

“ We must take yonder hill,” insisted General 
Howe. “ British honour is at stake. If the 
Americans fortify that hill Boston will be at their 
mercy. You cannot sail away, for our boats are 
out in the harbour. Fight, conquer, or die ! ” 

Generals Pigot and Clinton spoke in the same 
strain. Others, however, demurred. “ It is simple 
butchery ! ” they said. “ The hill cannot be taken, 
unless the price be far above what it is worth ! ” 
Those last words are well worth remembering, 
when we learn General Greene’s reply to them. 

At last the disordered troops were placed into 
columns for that third and final charge. New 
tactics were now assumed. The soldiers were 
told to discard their heavy outfits, that they 
might advance upon the double-quick. They were 
likewise told not to fire until the very defences 


THE STORMING OF THE REDOUBT 1 93 

themselves were gained, and that they must rely 
upon their bayonets. The artillery was also told 
to advance at any cost, until it could rake the 
breastworks from side to side. 

These orders were obeyed to the letter, and as 
the artillery poured its hot fire along the breast- 
works, Roger, Dick, and the others felt fully the 
peril of their positions. 

‘‘We can’t hold — began Roger, when there 
came another roar, and in a twinkle he saw Andy 
Cresson go down, with several men. Poor Andy 
was shot through the neck, and must have expired 
instantly. Ben Small was wounded, the cannon- 
ball striking a rock which went to pieces, hurling 
the fragments in all directions, one of which hit 
Ben on the cheek, leaving a bloody opening. 

In a few minutes it was plain to see that the 
breastworks could no longer be held, and a rush 
was made for the sally-port of the redoubt. The 
sun had made the ground as dry as tinder, and the 
dust arose in clouds, nearly choking the colonists. 
With a ringing cheer the British mounted the 
breastworks and came after the minute men, fir- 
ing as they ran. Then came a volley in return, and 
scores went down on the threshold of victory. 

“ Thet’s my last shot ! ” ejaculated Hen. “ Oh, 
fer a dozen more cartridges !” 

“I’m empty-handed, too,” came from Roger. 
“ If only some reinforcements would come up 


194 MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

with more powder ! ” The reinforcements were on 
the way, but General Ward had not been urgent 
enough, and some arrived only to find themselves 
too late. 

Yet the fight was not yet at an end. The 
breastworks were jlost, but the Americans still 
held the redoubt and a portion of the rail fence. 
Straight to the redoubt marched the British, and 
again came a volley from the colonists, who were 
now discharging their last cartridges. “ Club 
them down ! ” was the cry, as the glittering bay- 
onets of the redcoats appeared, and now flintlocks 
were used as clubs, while the few who possessed 
bayonets and swords used them to every possible 
advantage. 

The day is ours ! ” The cry came from 
Major Pitcairn, he who had ordered that first 
volley at Lexington, .which Roger and the other 
minute boys remembered so well. Roger heard 
the cry, and recognised the British officer. 

‘‘ De day ain’t yours, anyway,” came softly from 
a negro named Salem, and, lifting his flintlock 
quickly, he let fly his last charge, — and Pitcairn 
never lived to view the victory he had helped to 
make possible. 

Officers and men were now falling in every 
direction. Howe had at last been wounded, in 
the foot, and was now carried from the field. 
Colonel Abercrombie of the grenadiers likewise 



“ROGER WAS HORRIFIED TO SEE HEN PITCH FORWARD 

ON HIS FACE.” 



4 A 





THE STORMING OF THE REDOUBT 1 97 

went down, saying almost with his dying breath, 
of his old friend of day^ gone by, “ If you take 
Putnam alive, don’t hang him, for he’s a brave 
fellow.” 

The parapet of the redoubt was gained, and 
over the wall poured the redcoats like a human 
cataract, the Americans beating them vainly with 
gun-stock, sword, and bayonet. At such short 
range the fire of the British became as deadly 
as the fire from our side had formerly been, 
and to the dust and smoke and general confusion 
were added the heartrending cries of the fear- 
fully wounded, who, instead of being aided, were, 
in many cases, trampled under foot. 

Colonel Prescott now saw that further fighting 
was useless. The reinforcements promised had 
not arrived, his men were out of ammunition and 
exhausted, and the majority had not even bayonets 
with which to continue the struggle. Loath as he 
was to give ground, he felt it his duty to save his 
forces from complete annihilation, and ordered 
them to retreat. ‘‘We’ll fight another day,” he 
said. “ Come.” And they came, but reluctantly, 
and growling roundly that no more ammunition 
was forthcoming. 

General Warren did not want to go, and fought 
to the last. Amid the dust and smoke he waved 
his weapon on high, as if to bid defiance, single- 
handed, to the whole British troop. But a volley 


198 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

fired at the retreating colonists rang out, and he 
fell, mortally wounded. The death of the warm- 
hearted, patriotic doctor, when it became known, 
produced a profound sensation throughout the col- 
onies, and his taking-off was considered little less 
than a catastrophe. 

Almost blinded by the dust and smoke, Roger 
attempted to retreat with Dick, Hen, and the 
others. He had been struck in the face by some 
dirt falling from the crumbling parapet, and now 
a redcoat leaped upon him, as if to run him through 
with a bayonet. Catching the gun-barrel, he thrust 
the glittering steel aside. 

“ Not just yet ! ” he cried, and aimed a blow at 
the redcoat with his musket-stock. The weapon 
landed as intended, and the youth saw the redcoat 
roll over and over, and then disappear from view 
in the confusion which was growing greater every 
moment. 

“ Roger ! ” The cry came from Hen. “ This 
way — ef ye want to save yourself,” and the hired 
man came up on a run and caught the boy by the 
arm. Scarcely had he done so than a dozen red- 
coats surrounded the pair. Bayonets flashed to 
the right and the left and several reports rang out, 
and Roger was horrified to see Hen pitch forward 
on his face, the blood flowing from a gaping wound 
in his neck. 

‘‘ Hen ! ” he gasped, and knelt down. He was 


THE STORMING OF THE REDOUBT. 1 99 

about to go on, when he felt something pierce his 
side. He glanced over his shoulder, to behold a 
bayonet with an ugly-looking redcoat behind it ; 
and then of a sudden he felt a pain as of fire, and 
his senses forsook him. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


INTO BOSTON AS A PRISONER. 

When Roger came to his senses he found him- 
self lying in the bottom of a barge with the setting 
sun shining directly in his face. The craft was 
filled with prisoners and British soldiers, the ma- 
jority of whom were wounded. He tried to raise 
himself to a sitting position, but could not, because 
another lay across his stomach. 

Where — where am I.?” he gasped out, but 
nobody paid any attention to him. Then a number 
of groans and curses filled his ears, and soon he 
realised his position, — that he was a prisoner of 
the enemy. 

The day had been won by the British, but at a 
fearful cost. They had lost, according to their 
own estimates, a thousand and forty men, leaving 
several hundred unaccounted for, and of those who 
were killed ninety-two had been officers. The 
Americans lost one hundred and fifteen killed and 
about three hundred wounded. Well might Gen- 
eral Greene declare, grimly, that he was “willing 
200 


INTO BOSTON AS A PRISONER. 


201 


to sell ’em another hill at the same price.” The 
British did not want it. They halted on Bunker 
Hill, while the colonists retreated to the Neck and 
to Cambridge. 

From the start, Colonel Prescott had been the 
leading figure in this important drama, and now 
he hastened on horseback to General Ward and 
begged for more soldiers. “ Give me but three 
regiments — fifteen hundred men — and plenty of 
ammunition, and I will retake all that has been lost 
and more,” he said. But Ward demurred, for he 
could not spare the troops, and the stock of ammu- 
nition on hand was already dangerously low. He 
thanked Prescott for what had been accomplished, 
and let him go. But Prescott had already done 
enough to win undying fame among those millions 
who to-day share in the liberty for which he fought 
so sturdily. 

After leaving the peninsula, the American forces 
concentrated at Cambridge, Prospect Hill, Winter 
Hill, Chelsea, and other points of importance, 
ready to repel any attack the enemy might make. 
But as before mentioned, the British “did not 
want another hill at the same price,” and they 
remained at Bunker Hill and in Boston, much dis- 
heartened over their tremendous loss. Out of 
some companies that had gone out thirty-five and 
forty strong, only eight to twelve men remained 
to be commanded by the oldest private, all of the 


202 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

officers having been killed ! This was indeed a loss 
calculated to chill the stoutest heart. 

When the sun went down on that Saturday 
night, all was doubt and uncertainty. The British 
cannons still roared, sending their shots toward 
the Neck and other points which the Americans 
were supposed to be occupying. This firing kept 
up until three o’clock Sunday afternoon, when a 
violent rain-storm came up, compelling the gun- 
ners to cease because they could not aim their 
pieces. 

Cambridge was crowded with troops coming in 
from all directions, and with women and children, 
who came in to learn the fate of fathers, sons, 
and brothers. Here were also a number of ref- 
ugees from Charlestown, folks who had either 
brought their valuables with them or hidden them 
in dry wells and cellars. 

“ What will the British do next ? ” was upon the 
lips of all, while in Boston a similar question arose 
in the minds of those who had remained or gone 
back to the besieged town. 

All through that night, so clear overhead, yet 
so full of gloom, poor Roger lay in the barge, 
which had been rowed from Moulton’s Point to 
the wharf at the North Battery. He had a bayo- 
net thrust through his right side, but fortunately 
the flow of blood had ceased, otherwise he must 
have died where he lay. To his horror, he saw 


INTO BOSTON AS A PRISONER. 203 

that the man lying partly across him had already 
breathed his last. 

A detachment of three redcoats guarded the 
barge, and none of them hesitated to crack a 
prisoner with his musket stock did the poor fellow 
show any inclination to rise. “ Keep where you 
are,” was the command, and Roger wisely con- 
cluded to obey. 

Barges and other small boats were coming and 
going, making trips to Moulton’s Point and bring- 
ing back the British wounded, who were being 
taken up to the hospital and a dozen other build- 
ings for treatment. From one of the soldiers 
Roger heard that some twenty Americans had 
been brought over. “ But they must wait,” said 
the redcoat, grimly. 

At six o’clock Sunday morning an order came 
to take the barge from the North Battery Wharf 
to Long Wharf. At once the boat was shoved 
off, in charge of a single soldier and a waterman, 
the latter doing the rowing. The course was 
directly down the harbour, past what was then 
termed Clarke’s or Hancock’s Wharf. 

The harbour was filled with shipping, and the 
waterman had to move slowly, for fear of running 
into some other craft. “ Have a care, man, have 
a care ! ” cried the soldier. ‘‘ I can’t swim, and 
I’m not of a humour to be made food for fishes 
just yet.” 


204 MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Water ! Water ! ” murmured one of the 
wounded colonists. If you won’t give me a 
drink, throw me overboard and let me drown ! ” 
But the redcoat only smiled darkly and shoved 
him down into his place beside Roger. This act 
caused Roger’s heart to boil with indignation, but 
he could do nothing either for his fellow prisoner 
or himself. 

The pain had now left the youth, and a strange 
numbness followed. At times he felt so faint that 
his senses seemed on the point of forsaking him 
again. I wonder if I am badly hurt, and what 
they will do with me ” were questions that he 
asked himself many times. 

At last Long Wharf was gained and they tied 
up close to narrow wooden steps leading down 
into the water. A dozen other barges were about, 
and on the wharf stood a score of wagons and 
carts. 

Those of you who feel able to walk, get up ! ” 
came the order, and Roger tried to struggle to 
his feet. But the man across him had first to be 
removed. 

“ Where are you hurt .? ” questioned a kindly 
looking officer, at the foot of the steps. 

'‘In my side, — here, — a bayonet stab,” mur- 
mured the boy. He took half a dozen steps, 
then staggered, and would have fallen had not the 
officer braced him up. 


INTO BOSTON AS A PRISONER. 20 5 


Place him in the second cart,” was the order, 
and two marines lifted Roger between them and 
carried him to the floor of the wharf. The 
cart was then ordered up King Street to the 
deserted residence of one of Boston’s leading 
business men, — the house having now been 
turned into a temporary hospital. 

The jolting of the cart over the uneven high- 
way caused Roger’s wound to bleed afresh, and 
long before the drive came to an end the minute 
boy fainted. When he came to his senses he 
found himself stretched on a mattress laid on the 
floor, while a British soldier was dressing the wound 
in his side. 

“Coming around, eh.?” was the cheery greet- 
ing. “ Well, you’re not so bad off, so the surgeon 
says. You want to keep quiet for awhile and 
you’ll be all right.” 

“ Can I have a drink of water .? ” 

“Certainly, — all you will. Here, let me brace 
your head up with this extra pillow.” The sol- 
dier did as he desired and soon procured a pitcher 
of water and a stone mug. “ You’re rather young 
to be in such a fight,” he observed, while Roger 
was drinking. 

“ I am no younger than were lots of others. 
Thank you for the drink.” 

“ You fought well, I can say that for you.” 

“ Is it all over now .? ” 


2o6 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

‘‘There is no fighting at present, but nobody 
can tell when it will break out again. Your army 
has retired beyond Charlestown Neck and we 
occupy the hill that cost so many lives. Now 
you had better keep quiet and give your wound 
a chance to heal,” and the soldier turned away 
to wait on others that were wounded. In his 
younger days he had served in an apothecary shop, 
and now he had been pressed into service as a 
surgeon’s assistant. His name was Rufus Mont- 
gomery, and Roger saw a good deal of him ere 
they parted company. 

Slowly the hours dragged by. From a distance 
could be heard the booming of an occasional shot, 
while from the street came the rattle of the carts 
and wagons, mingled sometimes with the cries 
and groans of the wounded and dying. This 
Sunday in June, 1775, was one that the inhabi- 
tants of Boston were not likely to forget so long 
as they lived, being as it was so full of horror and 
alarm. 

Toward nightfall Rufus Montgomery came 
again to Roger, this time with a bottle of rum 
in his hands. “ Do you wish some of this to 
strengthen you } ” he questioned. 

“I — I don’t know,” was the youth’s reply. 
“ I don’t drink, usually, but — but — ” 

“ I will put a few spoonfuls into your water 
glass and mix it with your drink,- as a medi- 


INTO BOSTON AS A PRISONER. 20 / 

cine,” said the British soldier, and this was done. 
The concoction was certainly strengthening, and 
Roger’s pulse, low before, began to pick up. 

For supper that evening, the prisoners that were 
wounded were served with bean soup and stale 
bread. This may appear a hard fare, but it must 
be remembered that food in Boston was very 
scarce, and the soldiers and inhabitants subsisted 
almost entirely upon beans, pork, and salted fish, 
with fresh fish when they could be caught. Flour 
was almost worth its weight in coin, and beef and 
mutton became an article only to be remembered. 
But bad as the condition was now, it was to grow 
infinitely worse as the siege progressed. 

Although Montgomery^ was very considerate of 
those under his care, he was also strict, and no 
talking among the prisoners was allo'vyed. There 
were eight wounded men besides himself in the 
house, but who they were Roger had no means 
of ascertaining, excepting by their faces, which 
proved that they were strangers to him. 

How long will you keep me here.? ” he asked 
of Montgomery. 

Until you are well, or at least until you are 
able to walk around.” 

And after that .? ” 

“ I cannot answer definitely. Probably you will 
be put into the jail with the other prisoners.” 

Can I send word home that I am alive .? ” 


208 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

“ Perhaps you’ll be able to do that later on. 
You cannot, however, do it now,” was the British 
attendant’s reply, and with this Roger had to be 
content. 


CHAPTER XX. 


SAD NEWS AT HOME. 

The days to follow the battle of Bunker Hill 
were busy ones in the American army. The lines 
of defence had to be extended and strengthened, 
and in the meantime additional troops were called 
for, and they c^me in not alone from New Eng- 
land, but from many other places, until it could 
truly be called our Continental army. And while 
this was going on, George Washington was called 
from his retirement and made commander-in-chief. 

The coming of Washington produced great 
changes. Heretofore, the soldiers had been 
largely without uniforms, and many knew little 
or nothing concerning actual military tactics and 
regulations. Leading officers acted largely upon 
their own responsibilities, and that grand gather- 
ing of patriots had been without a supreme head. 
All was in a raw state and the wisest did not 
know what was going to happen next, or how 
political affairs would shape themselves. A few 
of the most ignorant thought Washington was to 
be some sort of a war king. 

209 


210 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

The change came speedily, considering how 
much had to be accomplished. The defences 
which were absolutely necessary to the safety of 
the army were properly garrisoned, the troops 
were formed into divisions,' and each officer was 
assigned to his particular duty. A commissary 
department was organised, so that the food so 
liberally contributed should not go to waste. An 
urgent appeal for ammunition was made, and 
Washington saw to it that the military stores 
were forthcoming. Drunkenness, which had been 
spreading among those who had now cut away 
from home influence for the first time, was checked 
and so severely punished that it almost entirely 
ceased. By a special order the commander-in- 
chief had church services held regularly on the 
Sabbath Day, and everybody not actually on duty 
had to attend. Before long the soldiers were 
placed in proper uniforms, and every officer from 
a corporal to a general had instilled into him a 
proper pride in his position through wearing the 
insignia of his rank. 

Nor was this all that was accomplished. The 
British were hemmed in by land, but, so far, the 
harbour and the ocean beyond had been free to 
them. More than once their vessels had gone 
out to prey along the coast and bring back to 
town the stores which had been confiscated. The 
Americans soon began to fit out vessels of their 


SAD JVEIVS AT HOME. 


21 I 


own, and presently the British captains found that 
they must move with caution or run the risk of a 
battle at sea ; and small craft, were compelled to 
remain within the harbour. 

The news of the battle of Bunker Hill had 
reached Mrs. Morse and Dorothy late Saturday 
night, and mother and daughter sat up for hours 
awaiting the tidings from Roger that did not 
come. 

‘‘You had better go to bed, mother,” said the 
girl, when the tall hallway clock sounded out the 
hour of three. “ It is not likely that anybody 
will come between now and sunrise.” 

“ Then you go, Dorothy,” answered Mrs. Morse. 
“ I cannot sleep.” 

But Dorothy would not retire, and in the end 
Mrs. Morse rested herself upon a couch in the 
sitting-room. Morning dawned and the breakfast 
hour went by, but still nobody came to give them 
news excepting an old man who had matters far 
from straight. 

“ We’re whipt ! ” said this person. “They have 
kilt all of our brave minute men ! They say 
Bunker Hill is piled two deep with dead an’ 
dying, an’ the blood is turning the Mystic River 
red ! ” 

“ Heaven spare us ! ” gasped Mrs. Morse. “ And 
my boy, my Roger — ” she could not finish. 

“ I know naught o’ Roger,” answered the old 


212 THE MINUTE BOYS OE BUNKER HILL. 

man. But it’s a sad day for the colonies an’ a 
great one fer George III., burn him ! ” and the old 
man stamped away. 

This report caused the two more anxiety than 
ever, and when church-time came Dorothy did 
not go out, as had always been her habit, but 
remained at home to administer medicines to her 
parent, who was growing weaker every hour. It 
was while she was at this task that she noted a 
wagon coming slowly along the road from Charles- 
town Neck. 

“ Here comes Mr. Cresson, mother ! ” she cried. 
“ Surely he must bring news of some sort.” 

“Yes, yes, — run out to the gate and stop 
him ! ” returned the parent, feebly, and Dorothy 
ran out, to find Mr. Cresson already turning in 
toward the wide horse-block. 

“ Mr. Cresson, you have news for us ? ” said 
the girl, as the farm-wagon came to a halt. Then 
she glanced into the open wagon and saw two 
bodies covered with a blanket. “ Oh ! ” 

“Yes, I have news,” was the low answer, and 
tears filled the minute man’s eyes. “I — I’ve 
got two of ’em here, — my Andy and Hen Pea- 
body.” 

“ Dead ! ” And now every bit of colour for- 
sook Dorothy’s cheeks. 

“My Andy is — is dead,” — the man could 
scarcely utter the words, — “Hen is pretty badly 


SAD NEPVS AT HOME. 


213 


wounded. He begged to be brought along, so 
I fetched him.” 

Poor Hen ! And Roger } ” Dorothy’s heart 
almost stopped beating as she put the question. 

“ I know nothing about him, — nor could I find 
out, Dorothy.” Mr. Cresson heaved a heavy sigh. 
‘‘ Better fix up a bed for Hen and I’ll carry him 
in.” 

I will. But, oh, Mr. Cresson, I am so sorry 
for you — Andy was such a good boy — he and 
Roger were such friends ! ” Dorothy’s eyes were 
swimming in tears and she caught the farmer’s 
browned and wrinkled hand. 

“He was — he was — the best of lads, my 
Andy ! ” The farmer broke down and sobbed 
aloud. “ My poor, poor boy, — how could they 
kill you.?” He drew his hands across his eyes. 
“I don’t know how I’m to tell his mother.” 

“ I would tell her for you, but mother is worse 
and Hen must be attended to. Poor Hen ! is 
he bad .? ” 

“Yes; but he’s bandaged up. I had the sur- 
geon do that before I started. Fix the bed, and 
I’ll be on my way.” 

Into the house and up-stairs flew Dorothy, and 
had the couch ready in a few minutes. Then Mr. 
Cresson came in, carrying Hen in his arms as if 
the tall Vermonter were a child. The burden was 
deposited on the bed, and without waiting to see 


214 MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Mrs. Morse, the farmer left, and drove away 
slowly, and with downcast head. 

“ Dorothy ! ” the word issued from Hen’s lips 
in a whisper, and a half smile played around the 
hired man’s mouth for an instant. “ Am I hum } ” 

You are. Hen.” 

“ Thank God fer it ! ” was the heavy answer. 
“ It was a — a fearful fight. I never want tew 
see anuther like it.” 

You are badly wounded. Hen.” 

“ Wall, I reckon it ain’t no flea-bite. Miss 
Dorothy. I — I — will ye give me a drink o’ 
water ? ” 

Yes, yes ! ” The girl fairly flew for the water- 
crock in the kitchen. When she returned, the 
Vermonter had fainted. 

It was not until Monday morning that Hen 
opened his eyes again. In the meantime a doctor 
had been stopped, as he was passing by on his 
way to Cambridge, and he had prescribed for the 
unfortunate sufferer. “ Dress his wound daily 
and keep him quiet,” were the orders. “ Give 
him broth and such things, and a little liquor 
when he looks to be sinking, but do not give him 
too much, as he may go into a fever.” 

The beginning of the week broifght new horrors, 
as it was learned that this one or that was either 
dead or wounded. One house out of every three 
was in mourning for some father, brother, or near 


SAD NEWS AT HOME. 


215 


relative. It was now that the hearts of those who 
looked for freedom were tried as with fire. Should 
they turn back and submit to the king, or should 
the struggle continue ? 

“ If only I could learn something of Roger ! ” 
sighed Dorothy, and her mother nodded mutely. 
Roger was in their minds constantly, but as yet 
no word had come to them of him. 

On Wednesday Nellie Winthrop presented her- 
self at the door, carrying a travelling-bag in her 
hand. 

“ I have come over to help you,” she explained. 
“ I know Hen must be a great care, and I thought 
you would like me to come.” 

It is very kind of you,” said Dorothy, warmly. 
“ If they can spare you at home, you’ll be more 
than welcome here.” 

Mrs. Morse was worse, and Dorothy utterly 
worn out. Nellie knew well how to take hold, 
and soon made Roger’s sister retire. When Mrs. 
Morse and Dorothy were both asleep, she turned 
her attention to Hen, who had lain in a stupor 
for twenty-four hours, just rousing sufficiently 
now and then to call for a drink. 

She found the Vermonter’s brow as hot as fire, 
and, catching hold of his wrist, felt his pulse 
beating rapidly. 

He is going to have the fever, after all,” she 
thought. ‘‘Poor fellow, I wonder if he doesn’t 


2i6 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

know something about Roger ? ” And then she 
busied herself to make sure that the bandage on 
Hen’s neck had not shifted. Besides the wound 
on his neck, the hired man also suffered from 
a sword thrust through his thigh. 

Toward sundown Nellie found the . house very 
quiet, and she walked out into the dooryard, to 
get a bit of fresh air. She could not get Roger 
out of her mind, for, as we know, these two young 
people thought a good deal of each other. 

“Nellie Winthrop, is that you } ” 

The call came from the roadway, and looking 
up she saw Mr. Small standing there, his arm in 
a sling, for he had been wounded, too. At once 
she ran to the farmer. 

“ Yes, I am here, helping Dorothy care for her 
mother and for Hen Peabody, who has been 
wounded,” she explained. “And you are hurt, 
too. Too bad ! ” 

“It is not much.” Mr. Small looked at her 
seriously. “ I’ve got bad news for the folks here,” 
he went on. 

“ Bad news ? Of Roger ? ” 

“Yes; the poor boy was shot down in the 
fight.” 

“And is he dead.?” Nellie had to force her- 
self to speak the words. 

“ I can’t tell you absolutely, but I reckon he 
iS; and the captain of the company thinks the 


SAD NEWS AT HOME. 


217 


same. You see, the fight got so hot he had to 
be left behind. But I saw him stabbed with a 
bayonet and go down, and — My gracious, 
Nellie, what’s the matter If you — The gal’s 
fainted ! ” 

Randolph Small was right, the shock had 
proved too much, and now Nellie lay like one 
dead in his uninjured arm. Tenderly he carried 
her into the house, and the noise of caring for 
her aroused Dorothy. 

“Something must have happened, Mr. Small,” 
said Roger’s sister, taking in the situation by 
instinct rather than by reason. “ You — you have 
brought bad news } ” 

“ Let us help the gal first. Miss Dorothy.” 

“ But Roger — Oh, if you know anything, tell 
me all. Anything is better than this suspense.” 

Dorothy clasped her hands and looked into his 
face so imploringly that he could not resist, and 
blurted out all, — how the tide of battle had swept 
him close to Roger, how the redcoats had advanced 
on the boy and on Hen, and how he had seen 
both go down before that glistening bunch of 
bayonets. “ Hen was carried of by the crowd 
through the dust and smoke,” he concluded, 
“ but Roger went down, and the last I saw of 
him the British were tramping over him.” 

“ Then Roger is dead ! ” The cry came from 
the doorway, and Mrs. Morse stood before them. 


2i8 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

Oh, my boy, my poor, dear boy ! ” And turn- 
ing, she staggered to her couch, not to rise from 
it for many a weary month to come. 

There was but one thing that kept Dorothy 
up, the knowledge that her duty to her mother, 
to Nellie, and to the faithful hired man must 
be done, regardless of what had happened to 
sadden her youthful heart. Drying her tears as 
fast as they flowed, she set about reviving her 
parent and her friend, and by the time this was 
accomplished the first shock was past, and she 
felt better. Soon she saw her mother slip on her 
knees in prayer. She joined at her side, and as 
her parent uttered the words, “ Oh, Father in 
heaven, thy will, not ours, be done,” she murmured 
“Amen.” Then the load was lifted, even though 
the spot where it had rested was still sore. 


CHAPTER XXL 


URIAH BED well’s THREAT. 

“Well, Morse, you are to be removed to-day.” 

It was Rufus Montgomery who spoke, and he 
addressed Roger, who sat in a stiff-backed chair, 
gazing out of the window of the mansion which 
had, under British rule, become a temporary 
hospital. 

The first of September had come and gjne, and 
Roger felt a good bit like his old self, although 
his side was still stiff, and he felt compelled to 
move about with care. He had been allowed to 
exercise himself daily now for two weeks, under 
the watchful eye of a corporal of marines. The 
distance covered each day was to Long Wharf 
and back, or to the Town Dock, through Crooked 
Lane. Once his guard had taken him to the 
neighbourhood of the Old South Meeting-house, 
which was now being used as a riding academy. 

“ And where am I to go, Montgomery } ” asked 
Roger. 

“ Do you deem it necessary to ask, Morse ? 
Where would you expect to go from here } ” And 

219 


220 THE MINUTE BOYS OE BUNKER HILL. 

the surgeon’s assistant, who had taken a fancy 
to the youth because of his open and manly way, 
smiled sadly. 

“ I presume I am to be removed to a jail.” 

“ Exactly. You have been pronounced by Doc- 
tor Wells to be sufficiently recovered to join the 
other prisoners.” 

“ Will they take me to the prison at the Court 
House .? ” 

“I hardly think so, for that place is greatly 
overcrowded. There is another stone building 
several blocks south of here. More than likely 
they will place you there. We Englishmen call 
it the Owl’s Rest.” 

“ I’ve heard of that resort,” said Roger, with 
a little shiver. “ It was formerly some sort of an 
iron foundry, and has very small windows and a 
tall chimney.” 

That is the spot, — scarcely as attractive as 
this. To tell the truth, I am very sorry for you, 
Morse ; you’d be quite the proper sort if you 
weren’t a rebel.” 

“ Thank you, Montgomery, and you’re the right 
sort, too,” answered Roger. “ I’ll not forget you 
nor the splendid treatment I have received at your 
hands. If I ever have a chance to return your 
goodness I’ll try to do it, and with interest,” and 
then the pair shook hands. 

Half an hour later a prison guard of eight 


Uriah jbedwelhs threat. 221 

grenadiers marched up, and the sergeant in com- 
mand presented an order for Roger and three 
others. Soon the little party was on the way, 
along a street that was fairly baked with the mid- 
summer sun. Hardly a soul was in sight, and 
here and there the grass was growing high between 
the pavements. Truly, Boston was not a town 
to be envied in those tiresome days of the siege. 

The walk again took Roger past the Old South 
Meeting-house, located on the corner of what 
was then Milk and Marlborough Streets. Here 
the pews had been taken out, some of the doors 
shut up, and many loads of dirt carted in, that the 
redcoats might have a sheltered place in which to 
ride. Around the church were many fine trees, 
but several of these had been hacked down for 
firewood. The well-known Liberty Tree, stand- 
ing at what is now the corner of Essex and 
Washington Streets, was also cut down for fuel, 
and when it fell one of the soldiers aiding in its 
destruction was killed. 

There is Gage’s residence,” whispered one of 
the prisoners to Roger, and nodded to a fine-look- 
ing brick mansion opposite to the church. This 
was the Province House, a three-storied structure, 
topped by a cupola, upon which was perched the 
figure of an Indian with drawn bow and arrow. 

The prisoner had scarcely spoken when there 
rolled from the grounds in front of the house an 


222 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

elegant chariot, drawn by a team of fiery horses. 
Instantly the sergeant halted his grenadiers, and 
all presented arms in the stiffest of military pre- 
ciseness. In the chariot sat two men in military 
uniforms. They were Generals Gage and Burgoyne. 

The party continued on its way down Marlbor- 
ough Street to Summer, passing Trinity Church, 
at that time a plain building of wood, ninety feet 
deep by sixty feet broad, and boasting of nothing 
better than a simple sloping roof, without cupola 
or steeple. Then they came to a big, wet pasture, 
known as Rowe’s field, but long since filled in and 
covered with hundreds of handsome stores and 
dwellings. 

The dingy building Roger had heard of loomed 
up before them and an oaken door opened to re- 
ceive them. Within all was dark and dirty, 
with a foul odour that was sickening. “ Must I 
really stay in this hole } ” thought the youth, and 
hesitated on the threshold. But a slap from the 
flat side of a sword made him realise his position, 
and he passed on. 

Originally the foundry had been an open place, 
not unlike a large blacksmith shop, but now the 
British had divided its single floor into several 
apartments, one being given over to the guard and 
the others to the prisoners. Behind the building 
were a whipping-post and a pillory, to be used 
when prisoners broke the prison regulations. 


URIAH BED WELL'S THREAT. 


225 


“ This is simply awful ! ” thought Roger, as he 
surveyed the apartment into which he had been 
led. Overhead the ceiling was thick with smoke, 
dirt, and cobwebs, and the walls were no better, 
while the flooring was covered with broken-up and 
foul-smelling straw. One window, two feet square 
and heavily barred, gave what there was of light 
and ventilation. 

This is beastly ! ” muttered a fellow prisoner. 

Morse, we’ll soon die here.” 

‘O shouldn’t wonder, Conroy.” Roger gave a 
groan. I suppose we are to sleep on this,” and 
he kicked up some of the short straw, dismally. 

Yes, sleep on it, sit on it, and dine on it, for all 
I know to the contrary,” growled Conroy, who was 
a militiaman from Connecticut. Oh, but I hope 
Old Put captures this town soon ! ” Like many 
other men from his State, Conroy believed that 
there was no greater military man than dashing 
Israel Putnam. 

The march had been a quick one, and Roger 
was quite exhausted. Looking around, he found 
a fairly clean corner and threw himself down, giv- 
ing himself up to reflections which were far from 
pleasant. Conroy continued to pace the floor 
moodily. 

To go into the details of what happened during 
that never-to-be-forgotten winter would be super- 
fluous. Each day was like those which had gone 


226 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

before, only more wearisome and discouraging. 
The only bright 'Spots were the half hour allowed 
each day for an airing, when the prisoners marched 
out by twos, chained together, for a tour of the 
meadow. 

At the end of the time mentioned, Roger was 
himself again, so far as his wound went. Other- 
wise, however, he was growing thinner daily, and 
his hollow cheeks and the deep rings under his 
eyes told only too plainly how the boy suf- 
fered. 

Food was scarcer than ever, and the daily fare 
was pork and beans, with dried or salted fish on 
Sundays. Of fresh meat there was not an ounce, 
even the guard declaring that he had forgotten 
how a roast or a steak tasted. For drinking they 
had water, and tea, if they wanted it, but the 
minute men refused the latter against principle, 
having sworn to drink none of the beverage until 
America was free. Rum could also be had in 
plenty, if a prisoner was willing to pay the price 
that was asked, sixpence a glass. Liquor, being 
cheap in the town at large, caused much drunken- 
ness among the British soldiers, until General 
Gage made the penalty for intoxication very se- 
vere. 

One day in early September, Roger was out for 
his airing, chained to Conroy, when, on moving 
along the highway which skirted the meadow, he 


URIAH BEDWELHS THREAT. 


227 


came face to face with Uriah Bed well and Deacon 
Marston. For the moment none of* the three could 
believe that they had seen aright. 

“ You ! ” burst from Uriah Bedwell. 

It’s that Morse boy ! ” ejaculated Deacon Mars- 
ton. “ A prisoner ! ” 

‘‘Yes, I am a prisoner,” answered Roger, bit- 
terly. “ What of it ” 

“Well, it — er — it serves you right,” answered 
Bedwell, sourly. “ I hope they hang you ! ” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Bedwell, that is no more than 
I would expect from such an unscrupulous Tory as 
you.” 

“ Ha ! this to me, — and in Boston ! ” gasped the 
lawyer, in a rage. “ Guard, did you hear what he 
said .? ” 

“ I did, sir,” answered the corporal in charge. 

“ He insulted me ! ” 

“ And you said you hoped they would hang me,” 
put in Roger. 

“ They ought to hang you ! ” 

“What is the boy guilty of, sir.?” asked the 
corporal, with interest. 

“A good deal. Through his instrumentality 
was I driven from my home, and my house was 
burnt to the ground,” fumed Bedwell. 

“ And he brought several false charges against 
me,” added Barnaby Marston. “ He is a thorough 
villain ! ” 


228 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

In that case you had better report him to Gen- 
eral Howe, sirs.” 

Uriah Bedwell frowned darkly. I will see about 
that. You have him a prisoner below here } ” and 
he waved his hand in the direction. 

“We have.” 

“Take good care that he does not escape. He 
is a slick young rascal.” 

“No slicker than you are,” cried Roger. “ Even 
if I am a prisoner, Uriah Bedwell, I am not afraid 
of you nor of the charges you may bring against 
me. Even if he is our enemy, General Howe is a 
gentleman, and I am certain he will listen to my 
story as well as to yours. You had a perfect right 
to turn Tory if your heart told you to do so, but 
you had no right, legal or moral, to secretly plot 
to ruin the neighbours who had made you what 
you are.” 

“Tut, tut, boy, don’t say another word ! ” The 
Tory shook his fist, vigorously. “Just wait, and 
you’ll learn a thing or two ! ” and he stalked off in 
high dudgeon, with Marston following. 

This meeting caused Roger to do a deal of 
thinking, and for two days he watched for Bed- 
well’s appearance at the prison, but the Tory 
failed to put in an appearance. 

“ Reckon he’s afraid of what you may have to 
tell about him,” observed Conroy, to whom Roger 
had long since told his story. “ Some of those 


URIAH BEDWELL’S THREAT. 229 

Tories are the meanest men on earth. I’d jest as 
lief put up with a British backslider as with any of 
’em.” 

That night Conroy got into difficulty with the 
jailer who brought him his food. Some sharp 
words followed, and the prisoner, who lay on the 
damp straw, received a heavy kick in his side. 

“ Oh ! ” he groaned. Then he raised up and 
with a face full of bitter hatred glared at the 
jailer. ‘‘ I’ll remember you for that ! One of 
these days you’ll be sorry you did it ! ” Roger 
heard the words, but paid no special attention at 
the time, but it was not many days ere he had 
good cause to remember them. 

All told, there were twenty-two prisoners in the 
old foundry, including six that occupied the apart- 
ment in which the boy had been placed. But the 
day after the assault just mentioned, twelve of the 
prisoners were taken away to the Court House 
building, and among them were those who had 
shared quarters with Roger and the Connecticut 
man. At the same time the guard was reduced 
from twelve to six soldiers, with one negro cook to 
prepare the scanty food provided. 

I see our clown ain’t gone,” grumbled Con- 
roy, referring to the jailer with whom he had had 
trouble. “Worse luck.” 

The British soldier overheard this remark, and 
in consequence Conroy was subjected that after- 


228 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

In that case you had better report him to Gen- 
eral Howe, sirs.” 

Uriah Bedwell frowned darkly. I will see about 
that. You have him a prisoner below here } ” and 
he waved his hand in the direction. 

“ We have.” 

“Take good care that he does not escape. He 
is a slick young rascal.” 

“No slicker than you are,” cried Roger. “ Even 
if I am a prisoner, Uriah Bedwell, I am not afraid 
of you nor of the charges you may bring against 
me. Even if he is our enemy. General Howe is a 
gentleman, and I am certain he will listen to my 
story as well as to yours. You had a perfect right 
to turn Tory if your heart told you to do so, but 
you had no right, legal or moral, to secretly plot 
to ruin the neighbours who had made you what 
you are.” 

“Tut, tut, boy, don’t say another word ! ” The 
Tory shook his fist, vigorously. “Just wait, and 
you’ll learn a thing or two ! ” and he stalked off in 
high dudgeon, with Marston following. 

This meeting caused Roger to do a deal of 
thinking, and for two days he watched for Bed- 
well’s appearance at the prison, but the Tory 
failed to put in an appearance. 

“ Reckon he’s afraid of what you may have to 
tell about him,” observed Conroy, to whom Roger 
had long since told his story. “ Some of those 


URIAH BED WELL’S THREAT. 


229 


Tories are the meanest men on earth. I’d jest as 
lief put up with a British backslider as with any of 
’em.” 

That night Conroy got into difficulty with the 
jailer who brought him his food. Some sharp 
words followed, and the prisoner, who lay on the 
damp straw, received a heavy kick in his side. 

“ Oh ! ” he groaned. Then he raised up and 
with a face full of bitter hatred glared at the 
jailer. “ I’ll remember you for that ! One of 
these days you’ll be sorry you did it ! ” Roger 
heard the words, but paid no special attention at 
the time, but it was not many days ere he had 
good cause to remember them. 

All told, there were twenty-two prisoners in the 
old foundry, including six that occupied the apart- 
ment in which the boy had been placed. But the 
day after the assault just mentioned, twelve of the 
prisoners were taken away to the Court House 
building, and among them were those who had 
shared quarters with Roger and the Connecticut 
man. At the same time the guard was reduced 
from twelve to six soldiers, with one negro cook to 
prepare the scanty food provided. 

“ I see our clown ain’t gone,” grumbled Con- 
roy, referring to the jailer with whom he had had 
trouble. Worse luck.” 

The British soldier overheard this remark, and 
in consequence Conroy was subjected that after- 


2 30 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

noon to ten lashes on his bare back at the whip- 
ping-post behind the jail, and he was, moreover, 
deprived of both eating and drinking for the 
balance of the day. 

This is a shame,” said Roger to him, when he 
got the chance. Conroy, you can have half of 
my supper and welcome.” 

“ Don’t want it, — it would choke me,” was the 
answer, in suppressed rage. “ Oh, what a villain 
Corporal Grumbert is ! If only I had a sword, how 
I would love to run him through and through ! 
But my time will come ! ” And the man threw 
himself in a heap in a corner and refused to be 
comforted. 

During the following afternoon, both Roger and 
Conroy overheard the guards talking about an 
inspection of the troops to take place on Boston 
Common that afternoon. All of the redcoats but 
Corporal Grumbert and one private were to take 
themselves away, and were not to show up at the 
prison again until the following morning. Con- 
roy drank in every word of the talk, and his eyes 
glistened hatefully. “ Now is my chance ! ” he 
muttered to himself. ‘‘ And if they hang me for 
it what will it matter } ” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


THE VAULT IN THE OLD BURYING - GROUND. 

Roger noticed that his companion was very 
restless during the evening, but, as this was 
nothing unusual, paid no attention. At nine 
o’clock, for the want of something better to do, 
the boy threw himself down and fell into a sound 
sleep. 

He awoke with a start, to find Conroy clutching 
him by the arm. The Connecticut man held one 
hand over the lad’s mouth. 

‘‘ Hush ! ” he whispered. “ Get up and follow 
me, — if you want to escape ! ” 

“ Escape ! ” spluttered Roger. He was almost 
stunned by the intelligence. 

‘‘Yes, but make no noise, or the guard at the 
other end of the prison will hear you.” 

“But how can we escape.?” questioned the 
youth, in a low tone. 

“ Follow me, and I will show you. Hurry, or it 
will be too late.” 

Without further queries Roger sprang up and 
231 


232 THE MINU7E BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

came after Conroy, who had advanced to the 
square window, the sill of which was on a level 
with their heads. In the dim light of the night, 
Roger saw that two of the window bars had been 
removed, leaving a space just wide enough for a 
man’s body. 

“ Push yourself through, catch hold of the bars 
and then drop,” whispered Conroy. I’ll go 
first.” 

But the guard ? ” 

Cabot is at the other end of the jail, and as he 
is singing I reckon he is pretty well filled with 
rum.” 

“ And Corporal Grumbert ? ” 

“ He won’t bother us,” was the grim answer. 

But hurry, or our chance will be gone. No more 
pork and beans and whipping-post for me ! ” And 
so speaking, the Connecticut man raised himself 
up to the window, pushed himself through, and 
disappeared from view. 

With his heart beating violently, Roger followed, 
to drop outside upon a patch of wet grass. Al- 
ready Conroy was skulking along a ditch dug to 
drain the water away from the old foundry. Roger 
paused for an instant and caught a line of the 
drinking song Cabot was humming. I wonder 
where Grumbert is ” he asked himself, but never 
once guessed the horrible truth. 

A few stars were shining, but there was no 


THE VAULT 


233 


moon, and as silently as ghosts the two stole along 
the ditch until the road leading into Marlborough 
Street was gained. Once or twice Roger had 
started to speak, but each time Conroy checked 
him. Be silent, — we carry our lives in our 
hands,” whispered the minute man from Connect- 
icut. 

“ But where are we to go ” 

“ I thought we might make our way through 
Frog Lane to the burying-ground and then over 
to the water near Fox Hill. From there, if we 
can obtain a small boat, we can easily row to the 
Charles River, where we will be safe.” 

After this nothing more was said for fully ten 
minutes, during which time they emerged upon 
Marlborough Street and hurried southward to 
Newbury Street, both now known as Washington 
Street, and then westward into Frog Lane, since 
christened Boylston Street. At this date Frog 
Lane was nothing but a country road, deep with 
mire, and upon either side were frog ponds of 
generous area, whence the name. On the upper 
side was the burying-ground and at the foot was 
a swamp ground, now filled in to the distance of a 
dozen city blocks, and covered with handsome 
stores and dwellings. 

“ Stop ! ” The command came from Conroy, 
as he clutched Roger by the arm. From out of 
the gloom the pair had seen a dozen redcoats ad- 


234 MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

vancing, their Tower muskets on their shoulders. 
Evidently they were some relief guard on picket 
duty along the shore to the south of Fox Hill. 

They stopped and sought shelter behind a 
number of trees in the burying-ground. Roger 
held his breath. Had they been seen .? Fer- 
vently he prayed not. 

‘‘Who goes there.?” The cry came from the 
officer in charge of the guard. 

Of course no answer was returned. Instantly 
the officer brought his little command to a halt. 

“ I could have sworn I saw somebody,” he 
muttered. “ Men, did you see some one .?” 

“ I saw two persons, over yonder,” answered a 
tall grenadier in the front rank. 

“ And where did they go to .? ” 

“Toward the burying-ground.” 

“ Ha ! we must investigate this. Forward ! ” 
and the guard came close to where Roger and 
Conroy were in hiding. “ Scatter, men, and see if 
you can’t rout them out,” was the next com- 
mand. 

Instantly the soldiers, eight in number, did as 
commanded, running hither and thither among 
the trees and over the graves. Soon several of 
them passed within three yards of the pair in 
hiding. Roger’s heart beat so violently he felt 
certain his enemies must hear it. 

“ We must get out of here,” whispered Conroy 


THE VAULT. 


235 


into his ear. “ I don’t intend to be taken alive,” 
and off he glided like a snake through the 
grass. 

Not wishing to be left alone, Roger started to 
follow him, but now came a cracking of dry 
branches, and two grenadiers came to a halt di- 
rectly in front of where he lay, between a raised 
vault and a clump of bushes. As there was no 
help for it, he remained where he was, crouching 
closer to the brush than ever. 

I saw some one here. Darby,” said one grena- 
dier. 

“ So did I,” was the reply. But where did 
the fellow go to ” 

“ I’ll give that up.” 

Let us search the vicinity.” 

“ Very well, you go around the vault that way 
and I’ll go this way.” 

At once the grenadiers moved as agreed, the 
course of both taking them around to the bushes 
behind which Roger was in hiding. 

The boy gave himself up as lost and fell back 
against the vault. If he was caught now, what 
would they do with him ? 

“ If I could only get up a tree, or something,” 
he mused. Then he thought of the vault door, 
almost behind him. He felt of the barrier and 
pushed upon it. There was a faint creaking of 
the rusty iron hinges, and the door gave way. 


236 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Without thinking twice, Roger crept into the 
vault and closed the door behind him. 

A damp, unwholesome odour greeted him and 
caused him to shiver. What a place in which to 
seek safety ! But anything was better than to be 
captured, and with his hands before him he moved 
to the back end of the sepulchre, between stone 
biers upon which rested several hermetically 
sealed coffins. 

“ I wonder if Conroy is safe } ” he mused, when, 
coming to the rear wall of the vault, he sank down 
in a corner. His feet had touched several loose 
boards, and these he now stood up in front of him. 

Presently came the creaking of the door again, 
and he heard the voice of the officer in charge of 
the guard. It will do no harm to look inside,” 
the Englishman was saying. Then the flare of 
a torch lit up the interior of the sepulchre. 

“ I ’m a goner now ! ” murmured Roger, as a 
grenadier pushed his way between the coffins. 
“ I might as well give myself up and have done 
with it.” 

But though he thought thus, he remained quiet. 
Soon the grenadier stood directly in front of the 
slanting boards. Then a shot rang out, coming 
from the upper end of the graveyard. The shot 
was followed by a second and a third. 

^‘They’ve discovered something,” cried the 
British officer. “ Come, men, or we will be too 


THE VAULT. 


237 


late ! ” and he dashed from the vault. The two 
grenadiers went after him, banging the door shut 
as they left, and Roger was alone once more. 

For fully ten minutes the youth did not dare to 
stir. With strained ears he tried to catch what 
was going on outside, but on the exterior the vault 
was banked up with sods and no sound penetrated 
to the interior. 

‘‘They must have caught Conroy, or wounded 
him,” he thought, dismally, but he was mistaken. 
Though seen and fired upon, the Connecticut man 
had, for the time being at least, made his escape. 

What should be his next movement ? Long 
and earnestly Roger revolved this problem in his 
mind without coming to any definite conclusion. 
He was free it was true, but it would hardly do to 
show his face in Boston, even among such Whigs as 
might be willing to befriend him. British orders 
were becoming stricter every day, and those known 
to be in sympathy with the colonists scarcely dared 
to call their souls their own. Walking on the 
streets of the town after dark was prohibited ex- 
cepting one had a pass, and no citizen dared to 
stop another for a friendly chat, unless a guard 
was present to listen to what was said. As the 
siege advanced the British became more and more 
suspicious that the “ rebels ” in the town were 
secretly plotting to deliver them into the hands of 
their enemies, whose fortifications at Prospect Hill, 


238 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Winter Hill, and elsewhere were growing more 
formidable every day. * 

The night was well advanced^ — in another hour 
dawn would begin to show itself. If Roger was 
to act at all he must do so quickly. To remain 
in this awful place until the next night, without 
food or drink, was out of the question. 

“ I must reach the water somehow,” he said to 
himself. ‘‘If I throw off my coat and shoes, I 
can easily swim across the Charles River, if I 
keep where the water is shallow, so I can wade 
part of the distance. Anything will be better 
than this,” and he gave a shudder as he moved to 
the door of the vault. 

All was pitch-dark, and finding the door was 
not easy. But, after bumping into several coffins, 
the iron barrier was gained, and he pushed upon 
it, easily at first, then harder and harder. It 
refused to budge, and in frantic haste he felt for 
a knob or a latch. None could be found, for the 
latch was only upon the outside. Then the hor- 
rifying truth burst upon him. He was a prisoner 
within the vault of the dead. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


AT THE SIGN OF THE SHAVING - MUG. 

Locked in ! ” 

The words came from Roger with a groan, and 
the heavy beads of perspiration stood out upon 
his forehead. The realisation of the true condi- 
tion of affairs came to him as a shock. 

In vain he tried to force the door. It could 
not be moved the fraction of an inch, and at the 
end of five minutes, panting for breath, he gave 
up the effort. So overcome was he by his emo- 
tions that he fairly staggered against one of the 
coffins for support. 

Locked in ! ” he repeated. “ Now what am 
I to do ? Supposing nobody comes to let me out ? 
I will die of hunger and thirst ! ” He bit his lips 
until the blood came, and kept back the tears with 
difficulty. Oh, this is ten times worse than if 
I had remained in the prison ! ” 

For half an hour he remained by the door, try- 
ing to conjure up some way of opening the bar- 
rier between himself and freedom. Nothing could 
be done, although he tried half a dozen things. 
239 


240 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Then he walked around among the coffins and 
along the walls, feeling for some other opening. 

Presently his hand struck a niche, and his 
fingers closed over a candle and a flint and tinder- 
box. “ Thank heaven for the light ! ” he mur- 
mured, and lost no time in striking the flint. 
But the tinder was damp, and he had to strike 
and blow diligently for some minutes before he 
managed to secure a flame. Candle, flint, and 
box had evidently been left there by somebody 
who was in the habit of visiting the vault occa- 
sionally. 

“ If only they would come to-morrow ! ” thought 
poor Roger. I would not mind if it was Gen- 
eral Howe himself, providing he let me out ! ” 

Candle in hand, the youth made a closer inspec- 
tion of the door, and then moved along the walls. 
As he passed one coffin after another he could not 
help but notice the plates. 

Suddenly he started, and the candle almost 
fell from his hand. “ Can this be possible ” he 
gasped. 

The silver plate on a coffin directly before him 
had riveted his attention. The plate read as 
follows : 


Alan Godfrey Brascoe. 

Born in London, Sept, ye 21, 1736. 

Killed at ye Battle of Lexington, in Massachusetts, 
Apr. ye 19, 1775. 


AT THE SIGN OF THE SHAVING -MUG. 24 1 

“ It must be the same — his wife must have had 
his body placed here — perhaps until she has a 
chance to send it back to England,” mused Roger, 
and his mind went back to that fateful day when 
he had been called to Lieutenant Brascoe’s side by 
the stone wall. Well did he remember the dying 
man’s words and his own promise to return that 
precious packet of papers to his widow. But the 
papers were still locked up in that old fashioned 
secretary at home, and of Brascoe’s widow he had 
as yet heard nothing. 

The coffin was sealed up, but even if this had 
not been so, it is doubtful if Roger would have 
cared to look within, so unstrung did he feel over 
his unusual position. His one thought was of lib- 
erty, and soon the Brascoe incident was forgotten. 

At the rear of the vault, he came upon a small 
well-like opening. This connected with a trench, 
running under the vault’s back wall. It was placed 
there for drainage purposes, and was choked up 
with dry leaves and muck. 

Setting down the candle and taking up a bit of 
board, Roger used the latter as a spade, and began 
to clean out the drainway. Soon it grew larger, 
and on looking down he was overjoyed to see 
daylight streaming through. He continued his 
labours, and in an hour had a fair-sized opening 
made, leading to one of the cemetery draining 
ditches. 


242 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Blowing out the candle, he crawled through the 
drainway, and soon found himself breathing the 
pure air beyond again. My young readers can 
well imagine what a sigh of relief escaped him 
when he found himself free. “No more vaults 
for me,” he murmured. “I’ll go to prison a 
dozen times over first ! ” 

The sun was coming up, and he felt that he 
must move with extreme caution. To get out of 
Boston during the daylight he felt was impossible. 
He must find a new hiding-place and something 
to eat and drink, and then await the coming of 
another night. 

As has been mentioned, the Common was 
directly to the north of the graveyard. Within 
sight of the burial-plot were located several regi- 
ments of marines, their lines of tents stretching 
along the Mall, then called Common Street. 
Only the tall fence separated Roger from his 
enemies at this point. 

As Roger paused close to one corner of the 
grounds behind a bush he saw a big farm wagon 
come along, drawn by a sturdy team of oxen. 
The wagon was filled with grain, and on the seat 
sat an elderly man clad in a smock-frock. 

“ Hi, hi, boy ! what are you doing here } ” came 
a sudden cry, and, looking back, Roger saw a 
marine advancing toward him. The marine had a 
musket in his hand, although he was not on guard. 


AT THE SIGN OF THE SHAVING -MUG. 243 

“ Fm not hurting anything,” returned Roger, 
as coolly as he could. 

“ Where did you come from 1 ” 

I came from the Long Wharf,” was the boy’s 
rejoinder, which was strictly true, although a good 
many months had elapsed since that time. 

“ Long Wharf, eh } Down here for grain } ” 

I was just looking around. Got any grain to 
spare .? ” 

“No grain for anybody but the faithful. Fll 
wager you’re a Whig.” 

“ Fm more of a hungry boy just now ” 

At this sally the marine laughed. “ Are you, 
indeed ? Well, I can’t help you out, for Fm on 
short rations myself. Get along, or Fll have to 
put you in the lock-up. No loiterers are allowed 
around here.” 

“ Will they allow me to try fishing over on the 
flats and Roger waved his hand westward. 

“ No, lad, only soldiers are allowed over there. 
Get along now, — the officer of the guard is com- 
ing.” And Roger did get along, glad to think he 
had escaped arrest so easily. Evidently the 
soldier had not yet received a description of Con- 
roy and himself. 

The wagon with grain had gone past, and, struck 
with a sudden idea, Roger ran toward it and 
hopped on behind. Perhaps in the heart of the 
city he would be safer than on the outskirts. 


244 MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

“ If I can only find some friend who will house 
me until this excitement blows over,” he thought. 

Anyway, I must get something to eat and to 
drink, and I haven’t so much as a half penny with 
me.” 

The farmer driving the ox-team was somewhat 
deaf, so he did not hear Roger climb among his 
bags of grain. Soon the boy was out of sight. 
And now for once luck was with him. Mixed 
with the grain was a sack of fall pippins, and 
digging a hole in the bag Roger pulled forth half 
a dozen of the apples and placed them in his 
pockets, and then began to devour an apple 
with all the gusto that only extreme hunger 
knows. 

Up into the busiest part of Boston rumbled the 
heavy wagon, through School Street and past 
King’s Chapel, which had been chosen by the 
British as their public place of worship during 
their occupation of Boston. Then the wagon 
turned into a small side street and came to a halt 
before a pot-house, known as the Shaving-Mug, 
why, nobody could ever say, excepting that the 
original proprietor had once been a surgeon and 
barber. 

The ox-team had scarcely come to a standstill, 
than a woman came from the Shaving-Mug, 
followed by several British soldiers. 

Old Oxley is back ! ” cried one of the soldiers. 


AT THE SIGN OF THE SHAVING-MUG. 245 

and hurried away, followed by the others. The 
woman ran to the wagon. 

“ Why did you not come sooner 1 ” she cried. 
“ They drank all of the rum and paid not a penny, 
and now they are gone.” 

You should have locked the door upon them,” 
answered the man in the smock-frock. “ Pity ’tis 
Peter is dead, or we’d have no such goings on 
around here.” 

“ Peter is dead, and I wish I was dead, too ! ” 
sobbed the woman. “ Drive around to the rear, 
and we’ll lock up and count our loss. If I 
dared — ” 

“ Hush ! your life is not safe if you say what 
you think, Mollie,” returned the old man, and 
led his ox-team up into an alleyway between the 
pot-house and a two-storied mansion of stone which 
seemed to be locked up securely from bottom to 
top. 

Roger had listened to the conversation with 
interest, he hearing easily, as both the deaf man 
and the woman spoke loudly. Now as the wagon 
came again to a halt, he leaped down, and seeing 
a door open to a kitchen, he ran into the apart- 
ment. 

<‘Who are you.?” cried the woman, as she 
followed him inside. The man came after the 
pair, and seeing this, Roger closed the door. 

The British soldiers are after me,” answered 


246 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

the boy, quickly. I need food, and a place in 
which to hide until to-night or to-morrow. I do 
not know you, but you look like kind people, 
and—” 

“ Is this some trick ? ” demanded the woman. 

It is no trick, madam, I will give you my word 
of honour.” 

“ And why should we shelter you ? Do you 
not know that we would be taking a great risk 
by so doing ? ” 

“I know that, but, but — ” 

‘‘I know you,” broke in the old man. ''You 
are from Lexington, and your name is Morse. 
Am I not right ? ” 

“You are, sir. But — but — please do not tell 
anybody.” 

“ Don’t ye fear, lad. We understand, eh, 
Mollie } Are the soldiers close on your heels ? ” 

“ Not very. But, you see, I broke out of 
prison, and — ” 

At that very moment the door of the drinking- 
room in the front of the house opened, and two 
men entered. At once the woman sprang to 
Roger’s side. 

“ Into there with you,” she said, pointing to a 
closet. “ I will give you all the food you want 
later on. Now I must attend to my customers.” 

She shoved him toward the little apartment 
mentioned. As soon as he was inside, she locked 


AT THE SIGN OF THE SHAVING-MUG. 247 


the door, placing the key in the pocket of her 
apron. Then she hurried to the drinking room, 
while the old man went out to attend to his ox- 
team and his load. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE Tory’s little plot. 

It may seem queer that Roger should have 
applied to the keeper of a drinking-place for assist- 
ance, when it is remembered that he did* not use 
liquor himself. 

But my young readers must recollect that the 
town of Boston was in a state of siege, and that 
very few places of any sort were open. Many 
of the shops had nothing to sell. Fully half of 
the houses in the town were not only locked but 
nailed up, with heavy boards placed over the 
windows. Moreover, the streets, as already men- 
tioned, were almost deserted, and where to go the 
lad did not know. Chance had placed him in 
contact with Mollie Stoker and her aged father, 
Asa Oxley, and he was inclined to make the best 
of it, understanding only too well that necessity 
knows no law.” 

The closet was broad and deep, more like a 
dark room than anything else. It contained sev- 
eral suits of clothing, and numerous odds and 
248 


THE TORY'S LITTLE PLOT. 


249 


ends which need not be mentioned here. Against 
the back wall was a high, iron-bound trunk, which 
had evidently come from England in one of the 
Pilgrims’ ships. On this trunk Roger sat down, 
to wait and to speculate upon the new turn of 
affairs. 

The youth had hardly settled himself than he 
heard voices proceeding from somewhere close 
to the rear of the closet. Pushing aside some of 
the clothing, he found that the apartment had 
been built with two doors, one opening into the 
kitchen, and the other into the tap-room. The 
latter was nailed up, but a keyhole and a generous 
crack remained unobstructed. Against the other 
side of the door rested a table, and at this sat the 
two men who had just come in to be served. 

“Uriah Bedwell and Deacon Marston as sure 
as fate ! ” thought Roger. He was right, the 
couple were indeed the two Tories with whom he 
had had so much to do in the past. 

Both men were drinking leisurely, and talking 
in low but earnest tones. At first Roger failed 
to catch much of what was said, but presently 
his ear became better trained to the situation, 
and he lost scarcely a word. 

“You are. a lucky dog, Uriah,” he heard Mars- 
ton observe, as he set down his glass. “ This 
will mean two thousand pounds in your pocket, 
if not more.” 


250 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

‘‘ Providing you do not fail me, Barnaby,” was 
Bed well’s dry and rather uneasy response. 

“ Did I ever fail you } ” 

“ Not exactly, but there are times when your 
backbone is not what it might be.” 

‘^I will do what you desire, never fear. But 
my share — ” 

“ You shall have a fifth, as I promised you 
before.” 

“ And when will the money come to me t ” 

As soon as Alan Brascoe’s widow gives up the 
case, and returns to England.” 

“ She will not go until the British leave Boston.” 
That may be true, but — ” 

‘‘ But what } ” 

“We can well afford to wait. Such a sum of 
money is not to be sneezed at.” 

After this came a pause, during which both 
men called for more liquor, and for a couple of 
pipes with tobacco. Mollie Stoker waited upon 
them, and then turned her attention to an English 
officer who came in to settle a score which had 
been running for some time. 

“ Did you not have a deal of trouble with Mrs. 
Brascoe ? ” observed Barnaby Marston, after light- 
ing his pipe. 

“To be sure. At first she would not believe 
that her husband was dead.” 

“ But you had plenty of witnesses to that fact.” 


THE TORY'S LITTLE PLOT. 


25 


“ Yes, and I — ahem — I sent the body to her, 
in a coffin I purchased in Cambridge. It lies in 
the burying-ground vault.” 

Didn’t Brascoe leave any papers regarding 
the property } ” 

She says so, but she also says she cannot find 
them.” 

“ Perhaps that is merely a blind.” 

“I think so, and still — ” Uriah Bedwell’s face 
clouded. “ If she brought to light the right 
kind of papers, it might prove very awkward for 
me.” 

“Did Brascoe’s body have the papers on it 
when it was found } ” 

“Well — er — ahem, no, nothing, absolutely 
nothing.” Uriah Bedwell heaved a long sigh. 
“ If there are any papers I wish I had them.” 

Again there was a spell of silence, during which 
Roger scarcely dared to breathe. What he had 
heard filled him with astonishment, not unmingled 
with satisfaction. He felt sure that the papers 
in his possession were the papers, and if that was 
so, he mentally vowed that Alan Brascoe’s widow 
should have them before he attempted to quit 
Boston. 

“ Where was Brascoe killed } ” asked Marston. 

“ In Lexington, back of Morse’s farm.” 

“ Morse again ! That fellow turns up every- 
where.” 


252 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

‘‘He is not turning up just now. The guards 
are looking for him in vain.” 

“ And what of that other prisoner who escaped 1 ” 

“ He is gone, too.” 

“Can it be possible that both escaped to the 
mainland ” 

“ I don’t know. Those minute men seem to 
be able to do wonders when they set out for it. 
I am afraid before this trouble comes to an end, 
they will burn the town over our heads.” 

“They won’t dare do that. Howe will lay the 
whole country low for twenty miles around,” 
answered Barnaby Marston, and then the two 
arose, paid their score, and sauntered out. In 
the meantime, the British officer had left, and 
now Mollie Stoker barred her front door, that no 
one else might enter. 

“ I am sorry to keep you waiting so long, but 
I have to attend to the customers, or they may 
pull the house down,” she said, half apologetically. 
“ Now no more can enter, and you can come into 
the kitchen, and I will get you a hot dinner in 
a few minutes. You look very tired.” 

“ I am tired and hungry, and more hungry than 
tired,” laughed Roger, faintly. 

“ Won’t you have a glass of liquor .? ” 

“Thank you, but I would prefer something to 
eat.” 

“ But the liquor you must have, lad. I will run 


THE TORY'S LITTLE PLOT 


253 


and get you a glass of my best,” and before Mollie 
Stoker could be stopped she had reentered her 
tap-room and poured out a generous glass of high 
spirits. 

Roger scarcely knew what to do. He had been 
brought up in strict temperance by his mother, 
and to go back on the word he had given her was 
out of the question, while at the same time he did 
not wish to offend one who was trying to befriend 
him. 

“ Now drink heartily,” said the woman. “ It will 
do you a world of good. My late husband laid that 
cask down eight years ago.” 

“I — I — would rather not,” stammered the 
youth. If you will only give me something to 
eat it will be all right.” 

‘‘What, you won’t drink the liquor!” came in 
shrill tones. “ Boy, are you one of the temperance 
kind, answer me } ” 

“If you must know, yes. But supposing we 
drop that matter and — '” 

“ But I’ll not drop it ! ” Mollie Stoker brought 
her fist down on the table with a bang. “Temper- 
ance, indeed 1 I’d just as lief give aid to a Tory or 
to a redcoat ! Out of my house this instant I ” 
And running to the alleyway door she threw it 
wide open. 

Roger was about to remonstrate, but one look 
into those wrathful eyes caused him to change his 


254 MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

mind. All right, I’ll go, if you won’t help a fellow 
creature just because he won’t drink,” he said, in 
a low voice. “ But let me tell you that you are 
not the woman I took you to be,” and, pulling his 
hat down over his eyes, he darted forth, and ran 
down the alley to where it came to an end among 
half a dozen barns and sheds. 

At one barn he saw old Oxley unloading his 
grain, and moved on without speaking to him. 
Several hundred feet farther on was another barn, 
close to the rear of a fine brick mansion. The 
doors stood wide open and he hurried within, to 
gain his breath and lay plans for future move- 
ments. He felt like a fox that is being run down 
by the huntsmen. 

From the rear of the barn came the voice of 
a negro, singing softly to himself as he cleaned 
off a beautiful black horse. 

“ He’ll be no friend,” thought Roger, as he 
recognised the song as one the British soldiers 
were wont to sing, — one telling of what was to 
be done with the rebels who were to 

“ Hang on high, 

For birds to peck as they pass by ! ” 

Seeing a feed-room to one side of the barn, the 
lad slipped within, closing the door behind him. 
Hardly had this been accomplished than the negro 
came forward to take from a nearby peg a set of 


THE TORY'S LITTLE PLOT 255 

fine harness for the steed he had been groom- 
ing. 

“ Great Christopher Columbus ! ” murmured 
Roger, as he peeped out from a knot-hole in 
the door. ‘‘A British officer’s trappings as sure 
as fate ! I am moving from the frying-pan into 
the fire ! ” 

The horse had been led forward to the doorway, 
and now the coloured man began to buckle on the 
harness, doing this work within two yards of where 
Roger stood, scarcely daring to breathe. The oper- 
ation was nearly completed when there came a cry 
from outside. 

“ Cato, is Firefly ready 1 ” 

In a minit, cap’n,” was the answer. 

** Get Rosebud ready also, — Mr. Bedwell rides 
with me to-day.” 

“Yes, sah.” 

And then a British captain entered the barn, 
followed by — Uriah Bedwell. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A PRISONER ONCE MORE. 

‘‘We must lose no time,” said the British cap- 
tain, as he leaned against the very door behind 
which Roger was in hiding. “ I do not wish to 
miss the general.” 

“ I trust we find him in good humour, Captain 
Rembrandt,” answered Uriah Bedwell, and now 
Roger started as he learned whom the British 
officer was, — the same who had escaped from 
Darrel Kirk’s house in Lexington. 

“ I don’t believe we will. He is much cut up 
over the escape of those two prisoners. He says 
our prison system must be going to the dogs.” 

“ And what does Howe say ” 

“ I don’t know. He will be in a rage, I expect. 
Burgoyne was furious.” • 

“ And have they no trace of the pair ? ” 

“ None whatever. Some marines discovered 
the man and fired a shot or two after him, down 
near the burying-ground, but young Morse escaped 
in a very witchlike fashion.” 

“ He is a wizard, that boy,” growled Bedwell. 

256 


A PRISONER ONCE MORE. 257 

“He has caused me no end of trouble. If we — 
Ha ! What is that, a spy } ” 

The Tory broke off short, as a tremendous 
sneezing issued from the closet behind Captain 
Rembrandt. 

Some feed had dropped from a shelf to the 
floor, and the cloud of dust rising up had tickled 
Roger’s nose beyond human endurance. He held 
back as long as he could, and then let go. 

• “ Ker-chew ! ker-chew ! Oh, ker-chew ! ” 

“ Somebody is in the closet ! ” burst from Cap- 
tain Rembrandt, and wheeling around he threw 
open the door, and Roger stood revealed. 

“Morse, or is it a ghost.?” ejaculated Uriah 
Bedwell. He said ghost, for Roger’s clothing was 
covered with the feed until it was nearly white. 

Realising his position, the youth sought to dart 
by the two men. But Captain Rembrandt was too 
quick for him, and hurled him backward, at the 
same time drawing his pistol. 

“ Stand where you are, Morse,” said the officer. 
“ If you don’t I’ll put a ball through your head.” 

“Truly we are in luck!” cried Uriah Bedwell, 
as soon as he recovered from his astonishment. 
“Do not let him get away, captain.” 

“ He won’t get away,” answered Captain Rem- 
brandt, grimly. “ Cato, bring a stout rope. This 
boy is the one who escaped from the prison last 
night.” 


258 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Is dat SO ! ” gasped the negro. He dun be 
a des’prit character den.” 

“ He is a desperate character,” said Bedwell. 
‘‘ Captain, perhaps he is still armed.” 

“Search him, while I keep him covered.” 

Very gingerly the Tory approached Roger and 
felt in the lad’s pockets. But the only articles 
brought to light were the apples taken from Oxley’s 
store. 

By this time Cato had procured the rope, and 
now Roger’s hands were bound tightly behind 
him, and one ankle was tied to the other in such 
a fashion that he could walk but not run. Uriah 
Bedwell assisted to make him a close prisoner with 
keen satisfaction. 

“This is the time you have reached the end 
of your rope, Morse,” he said, pursing up his 
thin lips. “You’ll not get away again. I’ll war- 
rant.” 

“And he’ll soon dance upon nothing,” added 
Captain Rembrandt, with a coarse laugh. 

“ I nebber did t’ink dat a boy like dat would kill 
anybuddy,” remarked the coloured man. 

“ Kill anybody } ” repeated Roger. “ What do 
you mean } I haven’t killed any one.” 

“ You killed the guard at the prison,” observed 
Captain Rembrandt. 

Roger looked from one to the other quickly and 
gave a gasp. “ Is Corporal Grumbert dead } ” 


A PRISONER ONCE MORE. 259 

“ Dead as a door nail, — and was that way before 
you left him.” 

“ But I never touched him. I can swear to that.” 

“You had better save your words, Morse,” said 
the British captain. “ Poor Corporal Grumbert 
was found with his skull broken from blows with 
a stone, and you and the other fellow who escaped 
did the foul deed.” 

“ And you’ll hang for it before a week is out,” 
added Uriah Bedwell. “You didn’t expect to get 
caught so quickly, did you } What brought you 
here to the captain’s quarters ? It’s dangerous 
ground for a murderer.” 

“ Don’t call me a murderer ! ” burst out Roger, 
fiercely. “ I am willing to fight my enemies, but 
I never did any underhanded work in my life. If 
Corporal Grumbert is dead I am not responsible 
for the deed. My friend loosened the bars on our 
prison window, and we both got out, and that is all 
I know about the matter.” 

Do you mean to say Grumbert was not on 
guard } ” sneered Captain Rembrandt. 

“ If he was, I did not see him.” 

“The other guard can testify against you. You 
will swing, — and so will Conroy, — if we can catch 
him.” 

At these words, poor Roger’s blood seemed to 
fairly freeze in his veins. He understood only too 
well now why Conroy had acted in that hurried and 


26 o the minute boys of bunker hill. 

peculiar manner. The Connecticut man had taken 
his revenge upon Grumbert by slaying the corpo- 
ral, thus opening the way to escape. The prison- 
ers had left together, and now it looked as black 
for the one as it did for the other. 

“I am innocent, — I can say no more,” said the 
boy. His heart was too full to utter another word. 

March with me,” returned Captain Rem- 
brandt. We will go into the house first, as 
I must get those papers for the general.” 

Very well,” answered Uriah Bed well. “ But 
keep an eye on him, — I would not have him 
escape for a good deal.” 

“ He shall not escape. Do not fear for it.” 

“And you will swing!” cried the Tory, pinch- 
ing Roger’s arm. “ It will be a sight well worth 
going to see.” 

The cut was so severe that the youth could not 
help resenting it. 

“And you shall have your troubles, too, Uriah 
Bedwell,” he burst out, without stopping to think 
twice. “You expect to swindle Mrs. Alan Bras- 
coe out of her property. Remerhber that Lieu- 
tenant Brascoe left behind him certain papers 
which — ” He stopped short. 

“Hal what do you know of those papers.?” 
burst from the old Tory’s lips. “Did you — have 
you seen them .? ” 

“ Never mind.” 


A PRISONER ONCE MORE. 


261 


“ Answer my question ! ” and now Uriah Bed- 
well caught Roger by the arm. 

“ I won’t say another word — until the proper 
time comes. Let go of me.” 

‘‘You shall speak. Brascoe died behind your 
orchard wall, and I heard that somebody was 
found trying to rob him. You must have been 
that some one.” 

“What is all this .?” put in Captain Rembrandt, 
curiously. 

“ This man is a swindler,” came from Roger. 
“ He wants to cheat a certain Mrs. Alan Brascoe, 
widow of a British lieutenant, out of some prop — ” 

“ Hold your tongue ! ” shouted Bedwell, and 
clapped his hand over the minute boy’s mouth. 
“ There is — ahem — some mistake here. The 
boy is labouring under a false impression.” He 
grated his teeth and frowned. “ Captain Rem- 
brandt, cannot we — er — cannot we keep him in 
your house for to-day ? ” 

“ Do you mean to keep him from the authori- 
ties ? ” cried the British officer, in astonishment. 

“ Only for to-day. I wish to question him. He 
is a wayward youth, as you know, and if his tongue 
is allowed to run in public, he may do me much 
harm. We can turn him over to the authorities 
to-morrow morning.” 

“ Well, this is a most unusual proceeding. Bed- 
well. Still, if you desire it — ” 


262 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL, 

“You can place a guard over him, so that 
escape will be out of the question.” 

“Very well ; I will keep him in the house until 
to-morrow, and Cato can play guard until that 
time. Cato, have you your pistol } ” 

“Yes, sah.” 

“Then come with us.” 

Without further words Roger was marched to 
the mansion in front of the stable. The British 
captain led the way to an upper side chamber 
overlooking a narrow alley. 

“ Let Cato remain on guard, I want to speak to 
you in private,” resumed Uriah Bedwell, whose 
face showed plainly that he was mnch troubled. 

“Very well,” answered Captain Rembrandt. 
“ Cato, is the window locked, as it was when 
we had that other prisoner here } ” 

“Yes, sah.” 

“ Then let the boy go, and you remain on guard 
in the hallway. If he attempts to escape, shoot 
him on the spot.” 

“ ril remember dat, sah,” was the coloured ser- 
vant’s reply. He turned to Roger, “ Maybe youse 
had better recollect dat I kin hit a squirrel at a 
hundred yahds.” 

“ I can do as much myself,” answered the boy, 
briefly. 

His three captors withdrew, locking the door 
after them, and he was left to himself. 


CHAPTER XXVL 


THE TORY AND HIS TERMS. 

Roger’s mind was in a whirl, so rapidly had 
events moved since his escape from the prison. 
Here he was a captive once again, and now the 
awful crime of murder was laid at his door. 

“Of course Conroy did the deed,” he mused. 
“ But how am I to prove that ? He is still free, 
but even if he is caught, will he admit it ? Every 
man’s life is dear to him, and the chances are that 
Conroy will escape, if such a thing is possible, 
even if in making the attempt he runs the risk 
of being shot.” 

With his heart like a lump of lead within his 
bosom, the boy sank on a chair in a corner. But 
he could not remain there long, and, springing up, 
began to pace the floor, nervously. 

“ What is you up to in dar ? ” came from Cato, 
outside. 

“ I can’t sit still,” answered the boy. “ I must 
walk around.” 

“ Oh, well, don’t yo’ go fo’ to walk out yere, 
263 


264 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

dat’s all,” and there followed the click of a pistol 
hammer. 

Fm not going to walk out there, so don’t be 
alarmed,” concluded Roger. 

His steps had taken him to the window, a tall, 
narrow affair, with small panes of glass set in 
diamond shapes. Looking through these, the lad 
noted that the alleyway was about eight feet wide, 
and that the house opposite had several windows 
close to hand. 

Empty, eh ? ” he murmured, as he looked into 
a bare apartment. I suppose that belongs to 
some true-hearted man who found Boston too hot 
to hold him. I wish I could get into the place 
from here.' I might have another chance to es- 
cape. But this window is locked, so that scheme 
is out of the question.” 

A half-hour went by without anybody coming 
near him. He was now more hungry and thirsty 
than ever, and started in to question Cato regard- 
ing some food, when heavy footsteps sounded 
outside, the door was flung back, and Uriah 
Bedwell entered. 

“ I want to have a talk with you, Morse,” began 
the Tory, after closing the door carefully behind 
him. 

“ All right ; I am willing, Mr. Bedwell.” 

“You made a strange statement awhile ago.” 

“ I only spoke the truth.” 


THE TORY AND HIS TERMS. 26$ 


“ I imagine you think you did. You are mis- 
taken, however.” 

‘‘All right, have it so, if you will,” responded 
Roger, coolly. 

“ You — ahem — spoke about certain papers — ” 
The Tory paused. 

“ Exactly.” 

“ Papers that Lieutenant Brascoe left behind 
him at the time of his death.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you said — ahem — something about my 
— er — my trying to obtain property under false 
representations.” 

“ I do not know the particulars, Mr. Bedwell, 
for I am as yet on the outside. When I see Mrs. 
Brascoe — ” 

“You will never see her, young man.” 

“ I shall make a strong effort to do so, even if 
I am placed in prison again.” 

“ Mrs. Brascoe sailed on a transport for England 
last week.” 

“ Did she, indeed } ” And Roger could not help 
but smile at the barefaced falsehood. 

“She did, indeed.” Uriah Bedwell saw the 
smile, and frowned deeply. “ Do you doubt my 
word } ” 

“ I know that what you say is not true.” 

At this the Tory bit his lip, and began to pace 
the floor. Suddenly he stopped short. 


266 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL, 

“You have spoken to her already about this?*’ 
he demanded. 

“That is my business, sir.” 

“ You refuse to answer my question ? ” 

“ Why should I ? ” 

“ Why should you ? Morse, don’t you know 
that you are in my power ? I can shoot you 
down where you stand if I wish.” 

“ But you won’t do it, for you are too afraid 
of being hung for murder, Uriah Bedwell. Cap- 
tain Rembrandt may be an enemy, but he won’t 
countenance anything of that sort, and you know 
it.” 

“ You take much for granted.” 

“ I know a gentleman when I see one. Cap- 
tain Rembrandt is all right, even if he is an 
Englishman, and even though we did have a hot 
time of it in Lexington. It is his duty to arrest 
me and bring me before the British authorities, 
and I am not kicking at it.” 

“You don’t seem to realise your peril. You 
will be hung for the murder of that prison guard, 
just as sure as the sun shines.” 

At these words Roger could not help but shiver, 
for he felt that that statement, at least, of the 
Tory was true. Bedwell noted the change with 
great satisfaction. Suddenly he came quite close 
to the boy. 

“Roger, let us come to terms,” he whispered. 



“ URIAH REDVVELL HURLED HIMSELF UPON THE BOUND 
AND DEFENCELESS LAD.” 








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THE TORY AND HIS TERMS. 269 

“ I see it is useless to play at hide-and-seek with 
you. Both of us have much to gain or much to 
lose.” 

“ I don’t understand what you mean by coming 
to terms.” 

“You want to gain your liberty, don’t you ” 

“Most assuredly.” 

“Exactly. And I — well, I will be frank — I 
want to obtain those papers you possess.” 

“ But I haven’t owned up that I have them.” 

“You certainly must have them. Where are 
they ? ” 

“ Safe.” 

“You haven’t them on your person .^” 

“ I have not.” 

“ Where are they ? ” 

“ I decline to answer that question.” 

There was a pause, and Uriah Bed well took a 
turn up and down the apartment, his face con- 
tracted in deep thought. 

“ Morse, supposing I should help you to obtain 
your liberty, — help you out of Boston, — would 
that be worth those papers to you ? ” he asked at 
last, in a low voice. 

“ You help me to liberty ? ” cried the youth. 

“Yes; help you to-day, not only to get away 
from this house, but also to get safe back into 
your lines. If I do that, will you turn those papers 
over to me ? ” 


2/0 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

You can’t help me that far ? ” 

“Yes, I can. Cato can be bribed into letting 
you get away. Down on the next corner below I 
will have a carriage in waiting, and a pass to go to 
Boston Neck can easily be arranged for. I will 
guarantee you a safe passage into the American 
camp.” 

“ And the price for all this is to be Mrs. Alan 
Brascoe’s papers, — those which prove her right to 
that property } ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Mr. Bed well, I refuse your offer.” 

“ You won’t take me up } ” cried the Tory, in a 
rage. 

“ No, sir. I’ll see you in Jericho first.” 

“ Boy, you do not know what you are saying ! 
You stand in the shadow of the gallows.” 

“Perhaps not. You stand in the shadow of a 
prison, though.” 

“Me!” 

“Yes, you. Before long Mrs. Brascoe shall 
know all, and no matter what happens to me. I’ll 
have the satisfaction of knowing that Mr. Uriah 
Bedwell and Mr. Barnaby Marston have received 
their just deserts.” 

With a snarl like that of a wolf Uriah Bedwell 
hurled himself upon the bound and defenceless lad 
and bore him to the floor. “ I will teach you to 
defy me!” he foamed. “You — you shall never 


THE TORY AND HIS TERMS. 2/1 

have the chance to expose me ! ” and his bony 
fingers sought Roger’s throat. 

How far the Tory would have gone it is im- 
possible to say, for at that instant Captain 
Rembrandt’s footsteps sounded out and he was 
compelled to fall back. “ Not a word of this ! ” 
he muttered, and then the British officer entered. 

Well, are you finished 1 ” asked the captain of 
Bedwell. 

“Not just yet, captain. Cannot you allow me 
another fifteen or twenty minutes } ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Captain Rembrandt,” broke in Roger. “ One 
word, please.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ As a prisoner of war I demand protection 
against this man,” and the boy pointed his finger 
at Uriah Bedwell, who dropped back and looked 
ready to sink through the floor. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


IN THE DESERTED MANSION. 

For a moment there was intense silence, as 
Captain Rembrandt looked first at Roger and 
then fastened his gaze upon the shrinking Tory. 

“You demand protection.?” he said, slowly and 
doubtfully. 

* “ I do, sir. As a prisoner of war I believe I am 
entitled to fair treatment.” 

“You are only a rebel prisoner, lad, but you 
are entitled to fair treatment even at that. What 
is the trouble .? ” 

“ This man wants to — ” 

“Be still ! ” shouted Uriah Bedwell, rushing up, 
but Roger shoved him back. 

“Let the boy speak, Bedwell.” 

“ But he wants to — to ruin me. He has always 
plotted against me,” whined Uriah Bedwell. “ He 
is a — a very imp.” 

“ It won’t do any harm to hearken to his tale. 
Why do you demand protection, Morse .? ” 

“ Because this man wants to — to get me out of 

272 


IN THE DESERTED MANSION 2/3 

his way. He is a swindler, and I intend to expose 
him just as soon as I am in a position to do so.” 

“ A swindler } That is a grave accusation.” 

“ I speak the truth. He is trying to defraud 
Mrs. Alan Brascoe out of some property.” 

Brascoe } You mean Lieutenant Brascoe’s 
widow } ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ What do you know of her property ” 

“ He knows nothing,” interrupted Uriah Bed- 
well, whose face was as red as a beet. “ This is 
a plot — ” 

“ Captain Rembrandt ! ” The call came from 
the lower hallway of the mansion. “You are 
wanted at once. Major Akers is waiting out- 
side.” 

“ The major ! ” murmured the captain. “ I 
thought it would come.” He turned to Roger 
and the Tory. “ I cannot look into this further 
at present, but I will be back this afternoon. In 
the meantime, Bedwell, you had better leave, too.” 
The captain called the negro. “ Cato, remain on 
guard, and see that Morse has a good dinner. 
And above all, let no one molest him, — no one, 
remember,” he added, significantly. 

“ Bedwell said Cato could be bribed,” inter- 
rupted Roger. “Why not remove me to the 
regular prison } ” 

“ I will send a guard from there this afternoon 


274 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

or evening. No, Cato is as true as steel. Isn’t 
that so, Cato } ” 

“’Deed it am, sah,” and the negro smiled 
broadly, then turned to frown at Bedwell, who 
had slunk toward the door. In a moment more 
the captain and the Tory were gone. The negro 
followed them, locking the door as before. 

It would be a hard task to analyse Roger’s 
feeling when left alone a second time. He had 
rejected Bedwell’s offer and he wondered what the 
future held in store for him. Certainly the pros- 
pect was not encouraging. 

But “while there is life there is hope,” and 
Roger was not one to give way to despondency. 
He waited until he felt certain the captain and the 
Tory had left the building, then approached the 
long, narrow window a second time. 

“ I could smash this glass with ease,” he mused. 
“ But what of that glass opposite ? And if I did 
succeed in smashing that, could I make the leap ? 
It must be ten feet from sill to sill.” 

His meditations were interrupted by the return 
of Cato, who was followed by a white girl bearing 
a tray containing a plate of the ever-present pork 
and beans, some bread and butter, and a saucer of 
stewed apples, also a small pitcher of water. 

“ You are very kind,” said the boy. “ But how 
am I to eat with my hands bound in this fashion ^ ” 

“ I will loosen yo’ right hand,” answered Cato, 


IN THE DESERTED MANSION 275 

and did so. “ Don’t yo’ try to escape, boy, or 
yo’ dun git shot, suah,” and, with a serious shake 
of his woolly head, he walked out. 

Despite the alarm that filled his breast, Roger 
ate every mouthful brought to him, washing all 
down with a generous drink from the pitcher. 
The meal made him feel much better, and almost 
immediately he began to form a new plan for 
escape. 

“ Supposing I take a nap,” he said to Cato, who 
came in to remove the tray. 

Certainly, — sleep as long as yo’ please,” 
grinned the negro. ‘‘I ain’t gwine to stop yo’,” 
and off he went. At once Roger threw himself 
on a couch in a corner and closed his eyes. 

He had rested thus about a quarter of an hour 
when the negro poked his head in to see how 
matters were going. ‘^Asleep, suah enough,” he 
murmured. He closed the door noiselessly, and, 
listening intently, Roger heard him tiptoe his way 
along the hall outside and down the stairs. 

“ Good ; that will give me a few minutes, at 
least,” thought the boy, and untying his bonds, he 
leaped up. Seizing a chair, he stepped toward the 
window, made a rapid calculation, and struck a 
heavy blow. A crashing of woodwork and a 
jingle of glass followed, and so far the way to 
freedom was cleared. 

But this was only the first step. To drop into 


2/6 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

the alley below and run for it would have been 
foolhardy. Still holding the chair, he leaned out 
of the opening, and aimed a blow at the window 
opposite. His calculation was true, the chair left 
his hand to hit the glass and framework squarely, 
and the article went sailing straight on to the 
floor beyond. 

Good for that shot!” muttered the minute 
boy, and stood up in the first window. He made 
another calculation. A daring leap, and he fol- 
lowed the chair, to land beside it, with nothing 
more serious as the result of this passage than a 
scratched left hand from which the blood trickled 
slowly. 

Roger was scarcely safe than he took up the 
chair and dropped it into the alleyway, directly 
under the window opposite. Then he brushed the 
broken glass from the sill before him, so that the 
damage done in this direction might not be noticed 
at a glance. 

Already was there a commotion in Captain Rem- 
brandt’s residence, so the boy felt that if another 
movement was to be made, the quicker the bet- 
ter. 

The apartment he had thus unceremoniously 
entered was destitute of everything but a large 
wardrobe, the doors of which stood wide open, 
showing only empty shelves within. Running to 
the door of the room, he flung it open, and entered 


IN THE DESERTED MANSION 277 

a broad hallway. There were more rooms to the 
front and the back, and stairs ran up and down. 

“ I might go down and escape by the rear,” he 
thought, and started down the stairs. He had just 
reached the lower landing when he heard loud 
voices on the street, and soon came the sound of 
a key being inserted in the huge iron lock of the 
front door. 

With all speed he ran to the rear of the hallway, 
which was blocked off by the kitchen to the de- 
serted mansion. Here there was a door leading 
to the yard, but it was locked, and the key was 
gone. There were also two windows, but each 
was boarded over to keep out intruders. 

“ Trapped ! ” thought the boy ; and now his 
heart sank still more, as he heard the front door 
flung open and listened to the entrance of Cato 
and two British soldiers. 

“I’ll remain on guard here,” he heard one of 
the redcoats say. “ Let the negro go up-stairs, 
and you, Hartpence, can go to the rear,” and in 
a second more the British soldier mentioned was 
moving toward him. 

Like an animal driven to bay, Roger stood in 
the middle of the kitchen wondering if he could 
overcome the approaching redcoat. Then of a 
sudden his eye caught the partly open doorway 
of a flight of stairs to a cellar. As silently as a 
shadow he slipped toward it, reached the stairs 


278 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

and closed the door behind him. Then down he 
flew to the cellar bottom, and hid in the darkest 
corner to be found, behind a half-dozen empty 
casks. 

He heard the tramping of the men overhead as 
they moved around from one room to another, and 
heard Cato go outside and to the rear. This lasted 
for a quarter of an hour, and then a soldier came 
below, holding up a lantern to light the way. 

If he’s here we’ll soon have him out,” shouted 
the redcoat to those above, and he moved directly 
for the spot where poor Roger was in hiding. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


ROGER MEETS MRS. ALAN BRASCOE. 

P'OR the moment it looked as if Roger would be 
discovered, and, indeed, the lad gave himself up for 
lost. The rays of the lantern, however, were dim, 
and the cellar was consequently still left in semi- 
darkness. 

Just in front of Roger was a cask overturned 
upon its side, resting close to the cellar wall. 
Crouching down, the minute boy crept into the 
space left between the wall, the cellar bottom, and 
the cask, and here he lay scarcely daring to 
breathe. 

‘^Do you see anything of him, Raymond ” he 
heard one redcoat ask. 

“ Not yet,” was the answer. 

“ I don’t believe he came down here.” 

“ I’ll soon tell you. It’s a fine hiding-place, and 
if — What’s that?” 

A shouting in the street caused the redcoat to 
break off short. 

Come out ! come out ! There is a fellow in 
the barn in the rear ! ” came the cry. 

279 


2 So THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

« We’re on the wrong trail,” said the soldier 
who held the lantern, and he ran for the cellar 
stairs, closely followed by his companion. Soon 
they had disappeared, and Roger heard them leave 
the house. 

The minute boy lay quiet for five minutes 
longer, then arose slowly. The cellar was pitch- 
dark excepting for a faint light which came in 
through a small side window. This was grated 
with iron, so escape in that direction was cut off. 

“ Now, what’s to do } ” he asked himself, dis- 
mally. ‘^They are hunting me as the hounds 
hunt a fox. I wonder if I hadn’t better remain in 
hiding until to-night ? ” 

He moved around the small cellar with caution, 
and at last growing bolder, as no one came near the 
mansion again, he ascended the stairs, to find the 
door at the top bolted from the other side. 

“A prisoner again!” he gasped. He tried to 
budge the door, but in vain. “ Here’s a pickle I 
didn’t calculate on.” 

Finding it utterly impossible to force the door 
open, he ran down to the cellar bottom once more, 
and began a tour of inspection. As he felt along 
the walls, his hand came into contact with many a 
spider and its web, but undaunted he kept on, 
until, with great surprise, he reached a latched 
door. Cautiously he opened it, to find that this 
gave entrance to a small arched passageway of 


ROGER MEETS MRS. ALAN BRASCOE. 28 1 


rough Stone. The passageway was nearly a hun- 
dred feet in length, and at its further end could be 
seen a faint streak of light. 

“ Now where can that lead to } ” he thought, 
and after a slight hesitation moved onward cau- 
tiously. Presently, he came to a small flight of 
stone steps, and ascending these, he entered an- 
other cellar, clean, bright, and well stocked with 
provisions. 

But this cellar, like that just left behind, was 
well barred from the outer world, so that escape 
was again cut off. Yet the door leading to the 
kitchen was wide open, and from that apartment 
came the hum of two female voices as their owners 
rattled among their pots, kettles, and pans. 

He’s a fine soldier, even if he is a Yankee,” 
one of the females, a tidy girl of eighteen, was 
saying. I never saw a nicer.” 

For shame, Lucy ! ” was the reply, from the 
other girl. “A Yankee! I hate them worse than 
ever. See how those two Yankee prisoners mur- 
dured poor Corporal Grumbert in cold blood.” 

“They are not all .so bad, Tess.” 

“ No ; some are worse,” and a vigorous rattle of 
dishes followed. 

The mentioning of Corporal Grumbert gave 
Roger a cold shiver, and he crouched down in a 
corner and hardly dared to breathe. Presently 
the conversation above was continued. 


282 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

“I don’t know what we are coming to, Tess. 
The whole of Boston can’t live like this for ever.” 

“ And why not ? We have enough to eat and 
to drink, even though it may not be of the best, 
and we have a theatre open, and the soldiers have 
their riding-school in that old church, and — ” 

“ I don’t think it right to use any church for a 
riding-school. I don’t think poor Lieutenant 
Brascoe would do it, were he alive.” 

‘‘ Poor man, and the missus crying her eyes out 
every day because of his death. I caught her cry- 
ing again only an hour ago, when I took up the 
coffee.” 

She doesn’t cry for him alone, Tess, she cries 
because that Uriah Bedwell is worrying her about 
something. I hate the sight of that man, — he 
reminds one so much of a snake.” 

I agree on that point, Lucy, he is a snake if 
ever there was one. It’s about property, isn’t it ? ” 

** I imagine so. Uriah Bedwell was here yes- 
terday, as you know, and as he went out I heard 
him say something about the land being his, as 
Mrs. Brascoe would soon learn.” 

Roger listened to this talk with bated breath. 
The pair were talking about Mrs. Brascoe. He 
must be in the widow’s house ! He could scarcely 
credit his ears. 

The talk ceased, and in a minute after the girl 
Lucy came tripping down into the cellar for some 


ROGER MEETS MRS. ALAN BRASCOE. 283 

potatoes. The barrel stood in the very corner 
where Roger was hiding, and as she tipped it over 
she could not help but see him. 

“ Mercy ! ” she gasped, and was on the point of 
screaming, when he clapped his hand over her 
mouth. 

“Don’t make a noise,” he commanded, in a low 
tone. “ Keep quiet.” 

“ But — but — who are you } ” she stammered, 
when he let her speak. 

“ Never mind who I am ; answer my questions. 
Is this Mrs. Alan Brascoe’s home ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Does she live here alone ? ” 

“ Oh, no, there are several families of British 
officers live here.” 

“ But she has her private apartments ? ” 

“ Oh, yes.” * 

“ Is she alone now ? ” 

“ She is, sir.” 

“ I am glad to hear that.” Roger thought for 
a moment. “ You work for the lady ? ” 

“ I work for three ladies, — wives of the offi- 
cers.” 

“Would you like to do Mrs. Brascoe a good 
turn ? ” 

“ To be sure, sir. But — but — ” 

“Then listen to me. Go to her and tell her 
that I am here, and tell her that I carry a mes- 


284 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

sage from her husband, who was killed at Lexing- 
ton. I would like to see her in private, and tell 
her that I trust, for her dead husband’s sake, she 
will not expose my presence here to any one.” 

“ And do you really bring a message from the 
dear dead lieutenant } ” asked the working girl, in 
curiosity. 

“ I do. Now go, and don’t tell a soul but Mrs. 
Brascoe that I am here.” 

The girl departed immediately, and closed the 
cellar door after her. A quarter of an hour went 
by, a time which to Roger just then appeared an 
age. What would be the outcome of this strange 
adventure } 

The door opened and the girl Lucy reappeared. 
“Come with me, quick ! ” she whispered. “Tess 
has gone to the barn, and Mrs. Brascoe is waiting 
for you in her dressing-room.” 

At once he followed the girl up through the 
kitchen, across a wide hallway and to an upper 
apartment luxuriously furnished. 

“ Here he is, madam,” said Lucy, and showed 
him within, and Roger was left alone with the 
lady he had hoped so many times to meet. 

He found the widow a small, beautiful lady of 
thirty-five. Her face was pale and full of a sorrow 
that went straight to his youthful heart. She 
stood in the centre of the room, and as he came 
forward she stepped toward him impulsively. 


ROGER MEETS MRS. ALAN BRASCOE. 285 

“You — you bring me a message ? ” she faltered. 

“ If you are Mrs. Brascoe, the widow of Lieut. 
Alan Brascoe, I do,” said Roger. And as she 
bowed, he continued. “ I was with the brave lieu- 
tenant when he — he breathed his last.” 

“Yes.?” She wiped her eyes and motioned 
him to a seat beside her on a couch. “ And what 
were his last words, pray.?” 

“His last words were, 'Tell my wife that I 
died as a soldier.’ ” To repeat that sentence 
nearly choked Roger as he saw how deeply the 
woman beside him was affected. “ But he had 
other things to tell, and he left in my keeping a 
packet of documents, relating, I believe, to some 
property belonging to you.” 

“ Those documents ! Is it possible .? Thank 
Heaven they are come to light ! You — you have 
them with you .? ” 

“ I have not. But they are safe in my home at 
Lexington. There are three papers, drawn up by 
a lawyer named Charles Wilburton, and signed 
by one Alan Brascoe and several others.” 

“ They are the papers — and I — my claim is 
safe. But how came you here .? Why, you are 
but a boy ! ” 

“ The story is rather a long one, madam. Can 
I trust you to keep my secret .? ” 

“Yes ; for you have been a friend, even though 
an enemy.” 


286 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

“ I am not your enemy,” he answered, and, 
without hesitation, told his tale just as I have 
narrated it in the foregoing pages. The widow 
listened without a word, but when he was done 
she caught both of his hands. 

“You poor boy, how you have suffered!” she 
said. “ I believe you when you say you had noth- 
ing to do with the murder of Corporal Grumbert. 
If it is possible to do so, I will see to it that you 
are returned to the American lines in safety. But 
we must be careful, or — ” 

A knock on the door interrupted the conversa- 
tion. 

“ Mr. Bedwell and Mr. Marston to see you, 
Mrs. Brascoe,” announced a servant, and Roger 
leaped up in consternation. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


OPERATIONS DURING THE SIEGE. 

“Those men ! ” cried the boy. “What shall I 
do.?” 

“ I will go below and see them. You can re- 
main here,” answered Mrs. Brascoe. “ Do not 
fear, — I will never betray you. But I am glad I 
can dare Uriah Bedwell to do his worst, I can tell 
you that.” 

In a minute more she left the room and de- 
scended to a parlour on the ground floor. Left 
alone Roger gave himself up to his thoughts. 
His mind was easier than it had been for many 
hours, for Mrs. Brascoe had promised to help him, 
and he felt sure she would be able to do a great 
deal. 

Half an hour had gone by, when, without warn- 
ing, Roger saw the door flung open and a richly 
attired elderly lady tripped into the dressing- 
room. “ Mrs. Brascoe, I am going — ” she began, 
then stopped short, and stared at Roger in aston- 
ishment. “ Robbers ! Thieves ! Watch ! Watch ! ” 
she screamed, and ran out into the hallway 
287 


2 88 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

before Roger could make the first movement 
to stop her. Her own room was just across from 
Mrs. Brascoe’s apartment, and here sat her hus- 
band reading a book. Henry, go quickly, there 
is a robber here ! ” she went on, and Captain 
Henry Becket, the man who had escaped from 
Lexington months before, leaped up, pistol in 
hand. 

In a moment more the entire mansion was in 
commotion, and half a dozen women and officers 
were running to the room where Roger was seek- 
ing vainly for a hiding-place. Soon he was dragged 
out into the hallway and to a large window. 

^‘The boy that escaped after murdering Cor- 
poral Grumbert ! ” cried one of the officers. “ This 
is a fine haul, indeed ! ” 

A murderer ! ” shrieked the richly attired 
lady. Oh, Henry, save us all ! ” And then she 
fainted dead away. 

While Roger was being made a close prisoner, 
Mrs. Brascoe came up, followed by Uriah Bedwell 
and Deacon Marston. 

“That boy!” gasped the old Tory. Then he 
turned to the lady. “ Now, I understand it all. 
So he came to you after his escape from me } 
He shall suffer dearly for his atrocious crime I ” 

“ And so they have discovered you — too bad ! ” 
said Mrs. Brascoe to Roger, and she looked at him 
pityingly. 


OPERATIONS DURING THE SIEGE. 289 

“ Did you actually harbour this — this young 
villain ? ” put in the captain, turning quickly to the 
widow. 

‘‘ He is no villain, — only a plain prisoner of 
war. Captain Becket. He was my late husband’s 
friend.” 

She is in league with the rascal,” burst out 
Uriah Bedwell. “She — she ought to be put 
into prison with him.” The failure of his schemes 
had driven him wild. “ Arrest her, captain, by 
all means.” 

“ If you were sheltering this escaped prisoner, 
Mrs. Brascoe, I cannot do less than ask you to 
accompany us to the Court House, where' the lad 
and yourself will have a hearing,” said Captain 
Becket, after a painful pause. 

“Very well; I will go,” announced Mrs. Bras- 
coe, quietly. 

“ This is infamous — ” began Roger, when he 
was silenced. 

“ Do your talking at the prison,” said an offi- 
cer. “ You are badly wanted there. I know this 
boy is a deep one.” 

Half an hour later found Roger at the substan- 
tial stone and brick building which was used as 
both a court-house and prison. Here he was 
given a brief hearing, and then led away to a cell 
in the rear. The hearing then proceeded, and 
Mrs. Brascoe was also detained at the prison. 


290 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Several days went by, and nobody but a jailer 
came to see the boy, and he had but little to say 
and was always on his guard. “He thinks I mur- 
dered that other fellow and may murder him,” 
thought Roger, with a shudder. 

At the end of a week a lawyer came to him. 
“ You are accused of a grave crime, Morse,” he 
said. “You will come up for trial soon. I have 
been assigned to defend you.” 

“ Has Conroy been caught yet } ” asked Roger, 
eagerly. 

“ No.” 

“ And the authorities feel sure I took Grum- 
bert’s life } ” 

“ It looks that way. Of course, we can set up 
the strongest defence possible, my lad,” went on 
Aaron Carson, for such was the lawyer’s name. 

“ Is Mrs. Brascoe still here } ” 

“Yes. She is charged with aiding you to 
escape.” 

“And I suppose Uriah Bedwell is doing his 
best to press both the charge against me and 
against her,” added the minute boy, bitterly. 

“ I must confess that he is, — he and a man 
named Marston. They seem very bitter against 
you.” 

Roger was to stand trial in less than a month, 
and Aaron Carson wanted to get all of the evi- 
dence possible in his favour. But Roger could 


OPERATIONS DURING THE SIEGE. 29 1 

scrape up no witness in his behalf, so but little 
could be done. 

“ I seem to be worse off than ever,” he mused, 
when left alone. Oh, if they should hang me 
for that murder ! What will mother and Dorothy 
say ” And he could not restrain his tears. By 
Mr. Carson’s aid he tried to get a letter through 
the lines to his folks. The communication passed 
Boston Neck, but, strange as it may seem, it was 
never delivered. 

Slowly the days dragged along after this. In 
the meantime, Washington and his army still lay 
about Cambridge, Charlestown Neck, and behind 
Dorchester, with strong fortifications at Prospect 
Hill, Winter Hill, and other points, fortifications 
which were being increased almost weekly. “ We 
are hedged in, we cannot escape,” murmured more 
than one redcoat. Howe, who had superseded 
Gage in command, and the higher officers said 
nothing, but, doubtless, they were doing a good 
bit of thinking. 

Our commander-in-chief now had the army in 
good condition, but powder was still a scarce 
article, and without this but little could be accom- 
plished. All of the colonies were called upon in 
secret to contribute to the general store, but they 
could send very little, for the war was breaking 
out at other points : Crown Point and Ticon- 
deroga, attacked even before the battle of Bunker 


292 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

Hill ; the advance upon Canada at Montreal and 
Quebec, and the reduction of Falmouth (now Port- 
land) by a British ship of war. An expedition also 
went to Long Island in whale-boats, but little 
came of it. 

New Year’s Day, 1776, had been one which no 
American should ever forget, for on that day the 
glorious stars and stripes of our beloved country 
was first thrown to the breeze. Heretofore the 
colonists had used the pine-tree flag, the rattle- 
snake flag and several others, but now it was to 
be the inspiring stars and stripes for evermore. 

Early in February a skirmish had occurred on 
Main Street, near Charlestown Neck. A few 
houses here had escaped the conflagration at the 
time of the battle of Bunker Hill, and General 
Putnam started out to destroy them. A sharp 
fight ensued, and the whole of Boston was thrown 
into a panic, thinking an assault had begun. This 
panic spread to the theatre, where a humorous 
play called the “ Blockade of Boston ” was in 
progress. An actor was just trying to make 
Washington ridiculous when there came the cry : 
“ The enemy ! Officers, to your posts ! ” and a 
number of ladies fainted. 

In this same month Washington’s army was 
greatly strengthened by the addition of several 
fresh regiments of soldiers. From Crown Point 
and Ticonderoga, Colonel Knox brought down to 


OPERATIONS DURING THE SIEGE. 293 

his chief over fifty cannon, mortars, and howitzers, 
and also some much-needed powder. It was now 
decided that Washington should take possession 
of Dorchester Heights, and plant there a battery 
that would place Boston at the Americans’ mercy. 
This work must be done ere spring should arrive 
and Howe could obtain reinforcements from Eng- 
land. 

The movement began on Monday, the fourth of 
March. At night a fierce cannonading was begun, 
and while the British attention was attracted by 
this. General Thomas, with two thousand men and 
with carts and entrenching tools, moved toward 
Dorchester Heights. With these troops were 
Dick, Paul, Ben, and a number of the other min- 
ute boys, and also Mr. Winthrop and Mr. Small. 
Mr. Cresson had not yet returned to the army, 
nor had poor Hen, who was still hovering between 
life and death. 

Never did boys and men work more diligently 
than upon that night. The moon shone brightly, 
and from a distance came the cannonading that 
was covering up the real movement of the colo- 
nists. At first great bales of hay were strung 
along Dorchester Neck, and by the time the sun 
arose on the morning following, two forts were 
so far advanced that they could easily withstand 
anything but very heavy cannon-shots. 

The astonishment of the British was beyond 


294 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

description. ‘‘The rebels have done more in one 
night than my whole army would have done in a 
month,” wrote General Howe. “ It must have 
been the employment of at least twelve thousand 
men.” 

Arrangements were at once made to move 
against the Americans, just as the redcoats had 
moved against them at Bunker Hill. For this 
purpose a number of transports were brought into 
use and filled with British soldiers. Washington 
heard of the proposed attack, and lost no time in 
strengthening his lines. “ Remember, soldiers,” 
he said, on the fifth of March, “it is the anni- 
versary of the Boston Massacre, and avenge your 
brethren.” The troops cheered wildly and promised 
to do their best. 

But the expected conflict did not come off, for 
on that day, and for several days following, the 
wind blew so strongly and the sea ran so high 
that no small boat could live in it, and the British 
soldiers were compelled to remain in Boston. The 
Neck was completely submerged, the water dash- 
ing high over meadow and causeway. In the 
meantime Washington strengthened his position, 
until to take it would have cost even a larger 
sacrifice of life than had the taking of Breed’s and 
Bunker Hills. 

General Howe’s situation now became truly 
desperate. The Americans with their cannon com- 


OPERATIONS DURING THE SIEGE. 295 

manded the town, and the British ships were 
unable to ride in safety in the harbour. To 
remain in Boston seemed out of the question, 
and to get out to fight the ever-increasing army 
of the colonies would be taking a tremendous 
risk, for, if defeat followed, the British troops 
would all be killed or taken prisoners. He had 
received word that he might leave Boston, and 
now he resolved to evacuate as gracefully but as 
speedily as possible. 

The news that the British troops were going 
away filled the Americans with joy, but it brought 
consternation to the Tories, who had thought that 
nothing could withstand the king’s own. They 
were tremendously bitter, and some went so far 
as to plot either to burn or blow up the town. 

The rebels shall never take the place,” said 
more than one Tory, and among these hot-tem- 
pered ones were Uriah Bedwell and Barnaby Mars- 
ton. As the preparations to evacuate progressed 
the Tories became utterly lawless, and, aided by 
the soldiers and the sailors from the war-ships, 
they broke open the houses and the stores, and 
confiscated everything of value that could con- 
veniently be carried away. What some of these 
operations led to we will see in the chapter to 
follow. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON. 

How long is this to last ? It seems to me I 
shall go crazy, one day is so much like another.” 

It was Roger who spoke, as he paced the nar- 
row confines of his prison cell. Weeks had passed 
since he had been placed there, yet nothing had 
been done toward bringing him to trial. Mr. 
Carson had tried several times to have the case 
brought up, but had failed. The prisoner was but 
a boy, let him wait, the crown had matters of 
more importance demanding its attention. 

Mrs. Brascoe was likewise a prisoner, and once 
in a great while the pair had been allowed to 
communicate with each other. Both were suffer- 
ing from poor food and the want of fresh air, and 
the lady looked as if she might go into a per- 
manent decline at any moment. 

Once Uriah Bed well had called upon Roger, 
and tried to learn something about where the 
documents belonging to Mrs. Brascoe had been 
placed. But the minute boy had refused to talk 
to the Tory, much to the man’s rage. “ All right ; 

296 


THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON 


297 

wait,. I’ll fix you yet !” had been Bedwell’s threat 
upon parting. 

For several days Roger had noted that some- 
thing unusual was in the air. Time and again he 
had heard heavy firing, and wondered how the 
tide of the contest was turning, but his jailer 
gave him no information, falling continually back 
upon the old saying, Ask me no questions and 
I’ll tell you no lies.” But that the jailer was 
much worried there could be no doubt. 

One night the boy could not sleep. From afar 
came the booming of cannon, and he kept wonder- 
ing if his chums were still fighting, and if Hen 
Peabody was dead or alive. At last resting be- 
came out of the question, and he arose and began 
to walk up and down. When he halted it was in 
front of the cell door, and now to his amazement 
he saw that the door was unlocked ! 

“ Gracious ! ” came to his lips, but he checked 
himself and caught hold of the door. It swung 
open with ease, and in an instant he was out in 
the long, gloomy corridor. Not a soul was in 
sight. Like a phantom he glided down the cor- 
ridor to a rear door, unlocked this, and passed 
into the night air. 

All was dark, for the moon had gone under a 
heavy cloud. On he sped, not knowing in what 
direction he was going, and caring little, if only 
that awful jail might be left behind. Passing 


298 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

through an alleyway he crossed a crooked street, 
and dove into another alleyway, between a silver- 
smithing establishment and a linen draper’s shop. 
Here in the intense darkness he paused for breath 
and to collect his somewhat bewildered thoughts. 

He was free ! But where should he go ? He 
was still in the town of his enemies, and the 
coming of daylight would make it almost impos- 
sible for him to hide, — he knew that from former 
experiences. 

Suddenly footsteps sounded upon the pavements. 
A band of half-drunken sailors were coming along, 
led by a boatswain as tipsy as his men. 

“ Here’s another linen draper’s ! ” roared the 
seafaring man. Burst open the door, lads, and 
out with the cloth ! We have no time to lose. 
Orders are to leave nothing behind for those 
rebels.” 

Here’s a silversmith’s, Dicket ! ” cried one of 
the sailors. *‘A crib wuth crackin’. Wot say, 
chaps ? A golden mug for all hands .? ” 

'' Right ye be. Ugly Pete ! ” came from half a 
dozen voices. “ The linen can wait, eh, mates ? ” 
And then came another rush, followed by a 
tremendous crash, as the shuttered door of the 
silversmith’s place was driven in. Then in went 
the crowd, pell-mell, each man swinging a ship’s 
lantern over his arm, and pocketing or bagging 
whatever came to his hands. 


THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON 


299 


‘‘They are looting the town!” thought Roger. 
“ That means something. Can the British be on 
the point of leaving } ” 

The sailors had been in the silversmith’s place 
but a few minutes when along the pavements 
came another crowd of men, soldiers and Tories. 

“ A crowd is ahead of us 1 ” came the cry. 
“ What does this mean ? Who gave orders for 
you to come here ? ” 

“ I want my plate ! ” shrieked out a thin voice, 
and Roger held his breath as he recognised the 
voice of Uriah Bed well. 

“Your plate ? ” said another. “ I thought your 
plate was confiscated by the rebels.” 

“Part of it was, but — ” 

A confusion of voices drowned out the remainder 
of the Tory’s words, and then came cries and vile 
exclamations as the soldiers and Tories tried to 
drive the sailors away. Crack I crack I two pistol- 
shots rang out, and a yell of pain followed. 
“ Guard I Watch I ” bawled somebody. “ I am 
shot ! ” Then the confusion became even greater 
than before, and a dozen pistol-shots rent the 
midnight air. 

Roger was too interested to move, wondering 
what Uriah Bedwell was doing there, and how he 
was faring. The strife continued ; but in a few 
minutes the sailors came running out into the 
street, and; as a dozen additional soldiers put in 


300 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL, 

an appearance, they took to their heels and disap- 
peared in the direction of the shipping. 

“To your barracks, men ! ” came the command 
from a captain of grenadiers. “ There is not a 
moment to lose. Wind and tide willing, we leave 
Boston to-morrow morning.” 

A shout went up, but it was some time before 
the soldiers left the establishment. “ These gen- 
tlemen want everything,” sneered one, referring to 
the Tories. “ I trust you enjoy yourselves when 
the rebels come in.” 

“ I shall go to England with you,” cried one 
Tory. “ I will not remain behind to be humiliated.” 

“ We will burn the town first,” added another. 

“ Do it, and General Howe will order the rebels 
to hang you,” was the mocking return, and then 
the two parties separated. 

From the silversmithing establishment, the 
Tories went to the linen draper’s shop. But here 
nothing of value was left, for the proprietor had 
sold out a month before. In the meantime, one 
man remained out on the pavement, nursing a 
wounded arm. It was Uriah Bedwell. 

“ Bedwell, where are you ” came in Barnaby 
Marston’s voice. “I heard you were shot.” 

“ It is not so bad as I supposed,” answered 
Bedwell, as Marston came up. “ Is it true Gen- 
eral Howe leaves to-morrow ? ” 

“ So I have been told.” 


THE E VACUA TION OF B OS TON, 3 O I 

“ It is hard.” Uriah Bedwell grated his teeth. 
‘‘ We are foiled at every point. Marston, I shall 
join the firebrands without delay.” 

I am with you. I hate Boston and all in it.” 

“ You do } Then come with me. But we must 
be careful. Come.” And the two men moved 
off. 

Roger had listened to every word. The news 
filled him with astonishment, joy, and fear. The 
enemy was going to leave ! But what if the noble 
old town were laid in ashes } 

“ It must not be,” he muttered. I will follow 
them and see what they do.” 

On he went, less than fifty feet behind the 
pair. A corner was passed, and they turned into 
a street which was little better than a lane. As 
Roger followed, he fell headlong over the body of 
a drunken sailor, sleeping with his feet against the 
steps to a house. 

The sailor did not awaken more than to grunt 
out half a dozen unintelligible words ; and, as Roger 
fell, his hand touched the man’s pistol. Instantly 
he appropriated the weapon, and also the fellow’s 
cap, bearing the name Wicklow. 

Bedwell had passed into another house a hun- 
dred feet farther on, and Marston had followed. 
All had been dark, but as the boy came up the 
flash of a lantern lit up the pavement. 

“ Ha ! who is this ? ” came from the hallway of 


302 THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL. 

the house. That Morse boy, as I live ! ” And 
Uriah Bed well came out again. 

“ Morse, true enough ! ” ejaculated Marston. 

Capture him ! Watch, ho, watch ! An escaped 
prisoner ! ” 

Both Tories made a leap for Roger and bore 
him to the ground. A fierce struggle followed, 
in the midst of which the boy’s pistol was dis- 
charged. The flash of fire crossed Marston’s 
cheek, and the bullet entered Bed well’s shoulder. 

Two yells of pain told that the shot had been 
effective, and Roger leaped back and set off on a 
run. Soon he reached another street, and, turn- 
ing a corner, made for the shipping. He heard 
the crowd coming after him, and ran faster than 
ever. 

The wharves reached, he found all in confusion ; 
for soldiers, sailors, and marines were everywhere, 
getting ready to leave. The streets and the docks 
were piled high with merchandise and military 
stores, more twice over than all of the vessels 
under General Howe’s command could carry. In 
this confusion it was an easy matter for him to 
escape notice. 

The night that followed was one Roger never 
forgot. When day dawned all was still in confu- 
sion. But the British troops had abandoned 
Bunker Hill and their other defences, and they 
must be off. At last, one ship after another 


THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON 303 

began to sail, until the harbour was alive with 
them. From a loft overlooking the shipping the 
minute boy saw everything, but took the best of 
care not to expose himself. The British sailed 
for Halifax, and the long siege of Boston was 
over. Within twenty-four hours afterward, Boston 
was in possession of the Americans, to remain 
their own to the present day. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


HOME ONCE MORE CONCLUSION. 

Mother, the British have evacuated Boston ! ” 

Can that news be true, Dorothy .? ” asked 
Mrs. Morse. “ Remember, General Howe has a 
strong army there.” 

Mr. Winthrop just brought the news. Gen- 
eral Putnam is marching into the town and occu- 
pying all of the important fortifications.” 

Heaven be praised for that ! ” murmured Mrs. 
Morse. Then her face clouded. “Poor, dear 
Roger, how I wish he had lived to enjoy this 
day ! ” And she wiped the tears from her eyes, 
while Dorothy turned away to dry her own cheeks. 

A tall, pale, feeble-looking man hobbled in. 
“ Wot’s this news. Miss Dorothy } ” he asked. 
“ Them air Britishers hev got out, you say ? ” 

“ Yes, Hen, they have sailed, bag and baggage.” 
“ Glory tew Peter ! Gosh, but thet’s prime 
news neow, ain’t it ” and the hired man shook 
his head enthusiastically. “ Wisht I was thar tew 
hev seen ’em go. I would most hev danced a jig 
o’ j’y, yes, I would ! ” 

304 


HOME ONCE MORE. 


305 


“ A good many of our men and boys were 
there, so Mr. Winthrop was telling me,” went on 
the girl. ‘‘It must have been a great time all 
around. The whole army will be allowed to go 
into the town as soon as the smallpox has been 
taken care of, so he said.” 

“ It’s a great victory fer General Washington,” 
was Hen’s comment. “ Reckon them air redcoats 
think we are of sum account — now,” he added, 
with emphasis. 

Mrs. Morse had moved toward the window, 
glancing out carelessly. But now a familiar figure 
on the highway from Boston caught her eye, and 
made her straighten up. “Oh, pray Heaven it is 
he ! ” she burst out. 

“ He } Who, mother } ” 

“It is — yes— oh, Dorothy, do I see aright.? 
tell me quickly ! ” And Mrs. Morse’s breath 
came so rapidly she could scarcely speak. 

The daughter gave one swift glance. “ Roger ! 
He is alive! Roger I Oh, mother!” And then 
she flew for the doorway and out of the house, 
with Mrs. Morse and Hen coming after. All 
three gained the gateway as Roger entered it. 

“ My son ! My son ! ” Mrs. Morse could say 
no more, but fell fainting in his arms. Dorothy 
was all in a tremble and shed tears of joy, while 
Hen and Roger were no less affected. 

“We all thought you dead,” said the hired man. 


3o6 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

^‘It’s like as if you had come back from the 
grave.” 

“ Then you didn’t get my letter } I thought it 
strange I never heard a word from any of you,” 
answered the boy, and then he carried his mother 
into the house and placed her on a couch. She 
quickly recovered and a general rejoicing followed. 
Soon the neighbours heard of Roger’s home-com- 
ing and flocked in to shake him by the arm. 
Nellie heard of it, too, and came with her father. 
Roger saw this one particular friend in private, 
and, although no outsider knows just what was 
said at the time, certain it is that both looked far 
happier than ever before when the greeting was 
over. 

Here I must bring to a close this tale of ‘^The 
Minute Boys of Bunker Hill ” and of scenes and 
incidents connected with the siege of Boston. 
The British had left the vicinity not to return, and 
for the time being the colonists in and about the 
town were secured against additional trouble and 
bloodshed. The work of minute men and minute 
boys was over, and they were privileged to return 
to their homes or join the regular army, as they 
saw fit. 

Roger was anxious to learn what had become 
of Mrs. Brascoe, and as soon as he could he re- 
turned to Boston, taking with him the precious 


J/OM£ ONCE MORE. 


307 


packet of papers. He found that the lady had 
been released and had retired into the family of 
one of the colonists. By means of the documents 
Roger had saved she was enabled to prove her 
claim to property worth many thousands of pounds 
sterling, and as a reward she turned over to Roger 
the deed of some Massachusetts land, upon which 
the minute boy later on settled down to live, with 
sweet Nellie Winthrop as his wife. 

At first nothing could be learned concerning 
Conroy, but later on it leaked out that he had 
sailed on a coastwise vessel for New York. The 
man had often boasted of killing the prison guard 
single-handed, so Roger’s name was cleared of this 
crime, if crime it can be justly called. 

Uriah Bedwell and Deacon Marston had lost 
both their reputations and their worldly goods, 
and when they left their beds of sickness neither 
had a friend to whom to apply for assistance. In 
the end Marston became little better than a 
beggar around Boston, and spent the last year of 
his life in the poorhouse. Uriah Bedwell secured 
a small loan from some relatives of his wife, and 
with this money removed himself and his family 
to New York, there to begin again, in a humble 
way, his practice of the law. 

Many of the minute boys joined the regular 
army during the early part of i77^) but for the 
present Roger had seen enough of the struggle 


3o8 the minute boys of bunker hill. 

and he felt that he was needed at home fully as 
much as on the battle-field. Mrs. Morse’s health 
was far from even fair, and he could not bear to 
think of her dying when he was not at her side. 

“ I will remain, mother,” he whispered, as he 
stroked her hair fondly. “ You know you are all 
the mother I have.” 

• ‘‘And you are my only son,” she answered. 
And then as she heaved a long sigh, she mur- 
mured : “ How like his father he is growing ! ” 
“We can’t have you go, Roger,” was what 
Dorothy said. “ Remember, you have been away 
from us for nearly a year.” 

“ I shall never forget it,” he answered, gravely. 
“ A year ! and the greater part of the time was 
spent in prison ! To my mind prison life is worse 
than life on the battle-field,” and there the subject 
was dropped ; and here we will take leave of our 
hero and all of the others, wishing them well. 


THE END. 







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